


Glass Eyes

by Onthewayyyy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action, Adventure, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Mystery, Parallel Universes, Past Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:00:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onthewayyyy/pseuds/Onthewayyyy
Summary: "I walked. I could do nothing but walk. And then I saw me walking in front of myself. But it wasn't really me. Watch out. The gap in the door... it's a separate reality. The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?"In a more grim Wizarding world, Harry Potter drinks to forget the horrors of the war and escape his reality. Hermione picks up the pieces and takes care of not only her best friend, but his godson too. They're a broken, dysfunctional family but hey, he's had worse. Trouble though, always seems to seek him out, throw in forgotten enemies rising from the dead, as well as parallel universes and it's not long before Harry finds himself at the centre of attention once again.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Teddy Lupin, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Teddy Lupin & Harry Potter, Tracey Davis & Harry Potter, Tracey Davis/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 23





	1. Bodysnatchers

_So much more than time has been taken._

* * *

"It wasn't me."

The woman before him stared back blankly, unconvinced.

"Mister... er, Potter, you were found covered in blood at the scene of the crime."

He resisted the urge to snap at her, to lash out. Instead, Harry did his very best to level out his breathing.

"I understand what it may look like, but I didn't do any of it."

The police officer looked back down at her notepad, eyes roving over the writing.

They were in some sort of muggle lock up, the walls were a gross grey and the lights were a bit too bright for his eyes. Harry would have been out of there in seconds if he had his bloody wand on him.

_Must've dropped it somewhere in the pub_ He thought darkly to himself.

There was a sigh, and the woman was once again looking at him. "Let's start with what we know then. You were at a pub on Bishiopsgate, _Dirty Dicks_?"

If the situation wasn't so serious, Harry might've laughed at such a crude word coming out of a no-nonsense looking woman like that. He opted to nod instead.

"And what of the man you were spotted with? This David King?”

At this, Harry did laugh a little, but it came out more as a strangled chuckle. David was good fun.

* * *

_ "We were walkin' through t'ginnel one night when a beer bottle flew past me, then another, and another. I thought to myself "Gonna 'ave some fun 'ere lads, let's get stuck in!". It were a right dust up, I swear down!" _

_Raucous laughter greeted this story from nearly all of the pub's inhabitants, even the surly bar keeper was wiping away a stray tear of laughter._

_David King was a big fellow, wide chest and muscular arms with a buzz cut for the ages. A fat lip from all the fights he'd been in lately and a few ugly bruises here and there over his face. He looked like he just left a boxing match._

_"'Arry," He said jovially, sloshing a bit of his drink as he turned quickly to address his drinking buddy. "Yer always so quiet mate, lettin' me talk yer ears off every night. How was your day today?"_

_Harry smiled weakly, while he adored David's simplemindedness, the man picked up on more than one would think upon first meeting him._

_He waved him off, "Same as always, David."_

_"The missus treatin' you well then?"_

_There was a knowing smile at Harry's red cheeks. It made him want to roll his eyes, he was drinking after all, hard not to be rosy cheeked._

_"Hermione is still as caring as ever, and we're not dating Davey."_

_David scoffed quite noisily into his drink, "Whatever you say, what about the little guy?"_

_Now that was a bit of a sadder topic, Teddy wasn't a handful like most kids typically were at his age, but he'd changed so much over the years. At first, he resembled his late mother in nature, loud and abrasive and not a care in the world. After the death of his aunt Andromeda two years prior though, Harry now found himself comparing the young boy to his late father instead. Always downcast and quiet, reserved even. The only person who could get Teddy to really talk at length these days was Hermione, and on occasion Ron and George. Course, if Harry was around more that could change. Being sober during that time wouldn't hurt either._

_He doubted David really wanted to hear about all that though, so Harry just settled on "He's good." It seemed to be_ _enough for him._

_Just then, the door to the pub opened, and a large blonde man that Harry thought he vaguely recognized waltzed in. He moved people aside, quite rudely, and ordered a drink as he sat down nearby._

_"Could be trouble." Harry heard David mutter._

"And this is when it happened?" The woman asked, writing what he said down quickly.

"Not right away," He said. "Y'see, me and David are regulars there, we know all the other lads. So this guy was strange, showed up out of nowhere, didn't talk to no-one, just sat there and drank."

"You found this suspicious behaviour?" She asked curiously.

"Only in hindsight," He assured her. "At the time, I was just trying to stop David from starting any unnecessary fights."

She jotted down more notes, "I see, and-" 

The doorknob to the room rattling interrupted her, a much younger woman stepped in dressed in robes.

Auror robes. 

"Hi there," She began cheerfully. "This is over."

The officer looked incredulous, "Excuse me? Just who are you? And how did you get in here?"

" _Obliviate._ "

Quick as a wink, the newcomer had her wand out and already casted the memory charm on the woman in front of him.

Her cerulean blue eyes locked on his own, and she said, "Get up Potter, you belong to us, not these muggle officers."

He got up warily, eyeing the brown haired woman with trepidation. "I-I don't understand, am I still under arrest?"

A smile tugged at the woman's lips, "For now, yes, we've gotten a whole squad of Obliviator's down here and at the pub you wrecked."

Harry gulped as he followed her out the building. "You mean, I did do it?"

"The murder? I dunno, but you sure did a number on poor ole Dirty Dicks." She made a face at the name of the bar. "Weird name that, anyway, you're wanted for questioning by the Auror office. Nothing too serious of course, you're Harry _bloody_ Potter after all. You don't remember me do you? Don't s'pose I can blame you really, different houses and all, doubt I ever said two words to you."

Harry blinked at the pace of which she spoke, he was still a little drunk, and her motormouth wasn't helping.

"What's your name?" He asked after a moment.

"It's Tracey Davis, now let's go, dad'll kill me if he knew I was dawdling out here with you in plain view of the muggles."

The name was vaguely familiar to him, and he could somewhat recall someone with the same name in his year in Slytherin. 

He looked around as men and women in white robes wandered around, pointing their wands at passerby's. When he turned back, Tracey was suddenly _very_ close to him. She grabbed his hands, and the familiar sensation of being shoved through a tight tube overtook him as they twisted on the spot and dissapparated.

* * *

"When's Harry coming home?"

Hermione sighed, she hated nights like this. 

Granted, this meant that she hated most nights in general.

"I don't know, Teddy. Hopefully soon."

The young boy's hair shifted through multiple depressing colours, before settling on a flat jet black. He was like his mother in that respect, his morphing reflecting his mood, especially at this young age when he didn't have a handle on it fully.

Harry spent almost all his nights out drinking at various pubs in London. Sometimes wizarding, sometimes muggle. Mostly the latter, as she knew he liked spending time with his friend David King. Hermione had met the man once before, he was nice enough, though she suspected he was drunk at the time.

Hermione knew, better than anyone else that Harry was hurting. The war may have ended four years ago, but to him it must've felt like it was still going on.

But she was determined to be there for him, for Teddy too, like she always had been in school. Even if he was being a git by drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Out of the three of them, she expected Ron to crack, but her redhead friend recovered relatively fast, now working with George at the shop and dating Luna Lovegood. Their brief relationship after the war ended rather quickly, both of them mature enough to realize they weren't fit for each other like that.

It was late, later than he'd ever been out before. She worried incessantly, it was uncomfortably familiar from their days at Hogwarts. What Teddy needed was a father figure, one who was sober at the very least eighty percent of the time.

Teddy moved to sit down closer to the front door now, as if being nearer would magically make Harry appear.

"He'll come," He said firmly, with so much conviction it surprised her. "He has to."

* * *

Harry was seated in an uncomfortable chair inside of the head auror office. Tiberius Davis was an imposing man, even broader chested than David, with harsh dark eyes unlike his daughter's, and a neatly trimmed beard. He sat behind an ornate wooden desk that was cluttered with documents and miscellaneous trinkets. Harry was briefly reminded of Dumbledore's old office, with the dozens of oddities all over the room collected by the old wizard over the years. Harry had only met Tiberius once, and it was in the short time he trained to be an Auror before quitting. Oddly enough, he never saw Tracey at training, but he supposed she could've joined later, it _had_ been almost three years after all.

He was snapped out of his reverie by the clearing of Davis' throat - the older one, as Tracey stood diagonal behind her father, watching Harry intently.

"Mr. Potter, before I say anything else, I will let you know right off the bat that you are not in any trouble. And that we have your wand here with us." Tiberius began, handing Harry back his familiar holly wand.

Harry must have visibly relaxed at these words, because Tracey smirked at him. He responded in kind by shooting her a dark look before nodding at her father.

"We do however, would like to hear your version of the events that took place tonight."

He went into as much detail of the night as he could. Harry remembered most of the night leading up to the incident, but weirdly enough he struggled to recall precisely what happened. It wasn't how alcohol worked, he didn't just _forget_ things, especially something as serious as what occurred at the bar.

Tiberius was in deep thought after Harry finished, while Tracey had no real discernible look.

"This is quite serious, Mr. Potter." He stated after a while. "Before we wiped their memories, several muggle witnesses described what looked like someone with a stick of wood firing jets of light in all directions, and you were the only wizard we knew of to be there." The head Auror raised his hand quickly to placate Harry's incoming outburst, that died out immediately. "However, these same muggle witnesses claimed they saw a dark haired man with glasses return fire. The trouble is your lack of memory. Whoever you fought against must have performed a memory charm on you, or perhaps the alcohol muddled your mind. In either case, we must ask that you remain available for questioning if we deem it appropriate to speak to you again. And... I have a proposal."

Harry raised his eyebrow at the older man, "I'm listening."

"Good," He stated brusquely. "When you first trained to become an Auror, you were top of the class by a landslide. Yet, you dropped out. Now, I know you have your own demons, but your help here could prove invaluable."

"But why me? Surely you have other capable Auror's on hand?" Harry interrupted.

Tracey snorted and her father shook his head.

"I'm afraid not. Reports of Death Eaters running amok across the country have surfaced, people we once thought _dead_ have returned to disrupt our daily lives. I won't lie, a decent number of muggles died tonight, and in the last few days, we think it's related.Thus, I've dispatched almost every one I can to take care of it all as quickly as possible. We can't have Britain thinking the Death Eaters are a credible threat again."

Harry was shocked, "Back from the dead? What do you mean?"

Tiberius sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Last week, one of my Auror's reported seeing Evan Rosier destroying a house in Leeds. I'm sure you know as well as I do that Rosier died after the first war to Alastor Moody.

How could this be possible? Surely Voldemort didn't share his secret of making horcrux's with his followers? No, definitely not, Tom would never tell anyone his darkest secret, it was one more thing that made him unique, and the dark lord worked very hard to be unique.

"It doesn't end there, we've also seen several other Death Eater's back in action despite previously being thought dead like Gibbon and Wilkes. So you see, we're spread pretty thin."

Tracey muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "that's an overstatement", but her father ignored it.

"We need you, Mr. Potter, to fight them once again. We have nobody else."

This was bad, it all felt too real. The people he fought so hard to put away were back? All those years, wasted. He threw his bloody life away to fight the _good fight,_ and it was all for nothing. Harry couldn't, _wouldn't,_ go back to it. Flashes of faces went by in his mind, faces of dead people. Fred, Remus, Tonks, Snape, Dumbledore, his parents, Ginny, Neville, Mad-Eye, Andromeda, and Sirius.

Not all of these deaths happened during the war, in his first year as a fully fledged Auror, Neville Longbottom got his head blown off by a stray blasting curse in what was meant to be a simple raid. Andromeda Tonks died of cancer not too long after, it was why Teddy lived with him now. And then there was Ginny.

Sweet, amazing Ginny. He thought after the war that they could finally be together, but it wasn't meant to be. She was one of many that died at Hogwarts, and she died duelling Bellatrix Lestrange before her mother took over.

He'd left the Weasley's to grieve, as Harry felt out of place in their home. He still kept in contact of course, on more than one occasion Ron had gotten him to leave the house for something other than cheap booze, and Harry tried to visit George at the shop. 

It was never enough to fill the gaping hole in his heart. No, that was reserved for the alcohol. It pained him to do it to Teddy, but especially to Hermione, the woman who stuck by him for almost eleven years now. When he'd first gone down the drinking rabbit hole, she had been the first one to succeed in having him ease up. Hermione has been living with him for nearly a year now, and it was a constant uphill battle for her. But he couldn't stop. Stopping meant remembering like he was now, the cold grasp of sobriety was too painful for him. 

"No." He said after a while.

Tiberius looked incredibly surprised, "No?" He whispered, a hint of anger in his voice, even Tracey seemed shocked.

"No. I'm sorry, I wish I could help you, but I'm incredibly busy."

_Liar Liar Liar_

Tracey scoffed, "Bollocks you're busy - doing what exactly? Getting pissed overnight with your muggle mates?"

A brief flare of fury overcame him, before he collected himself and refused to rise to the taunt.

"Thanks for my wand but if you'll excuse me," He said while rising from his seat. "I have to get home and receive an earful from my friend."

And then he left.

* * *

"I can't believe he said that."

Tiberius shook his head grimly, "I can, our tact was beyond abysmal. To give him that request after dropping quite the bombshell." A glance at his daughter showed she didn't fully understand. "Harry Potter is a broken man who's just lost _too_ much in his life. We've just showed him that the people he spent his life fighting are back from the dead, it doesn't take a genius to realize that his immediate reaction would be a negative one."

Tracey had a frown on her face while she contemplated it.

"Give him time," He told her. "He'll be back."

* * *

" _Harry James Potter!_ "

That's how you know she's mad, the use of his full name. It was filled with such vehemence that he couldn't help but fear for his life. He stood there in the doorway, awaiting the inevitable smack, but it never came. What he received instead was much worse.

Hermione stood there in the main hall of Grimmauld Place looking absolutely murderous, but that wasn't the bad part, Harry was _used_ to that at this point. No, it was the look of utter disappointment on the face of Teddy that killed him on the inside.

"You said you'd try to be better," He said in a quivering voice. "For me, and for her."

Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He dropped his head in shame, and he vaguely registered Hermione stomping up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving him and Teddy alone. Not even the disgruntled "Well _excuse_ me" from Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait could alleviate the tension.

"I don't like it when you go out."

He sighed, "I know, Ted."

"So then why do you do it?"

The way he said it so simply momentarily stunned Harry, "I- Well, I guess it's because I'm sad, mate."

"But it makes _me_ sad. And Hermione."

Tears welled in his eyes, but he would _not_ cry in front of Teddy.

"I'm sorry."

Teddy shook his head, "That's what you _always_ say."

Merlin, the kid knew just what to say to make Harry depressed. A long and melancholic silence followed.

"What happened?" Teddy asked after awhile.

Grateful for the semi change of topic, Harry answered quickly. "There was an attack at the bar today, another wizard."

"Is that why you're covered in blood?" He asked, and Harry nodded.

Teddy seemed to ponder this for a moment, "You should tell Hermione." He said eventually.

"I was going to," Harry told him. "The Auror's also offered me a job."

There was a pause.

"Are you gonna take it?"

Harry shook his head.

"She'll make you." Teddy said pointedly. _Bloody hell_ since when were four year olds this smart?

"I just won't tell her then, Ted." He said, smiling and ruffling the boy's hair that matched his own.

" _Good luck_ with that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love some feedback on this, as the concept just randomly came to me a week ago. Since then I've been planning this fic out and while I still have a lot more to iron out, I felt confident enough to post this first chapter. Please let me know what you think!


	2. Sisyphus

_Don't touch that dial now we're just getting started._

* * *

When he arrived at Hermione's room after changing out of his bloody clothing, Harry was unsurprised to find it unlocked. Even more unsurprising was that Hermione was pacing the room, not even glancing at him as he entered. 

She was grumbling to herself, before suddenly turning towards him and advancing with fury in her eyes.

"Of all the stupid, terrible decisions you've made over the years, tonight had to have set some sort of record! Where were you, you prat? We stayed up all night wondering and worrying after you!" She was yelling, her arms were waving all over the place and her bushy hair was wild. He tried to speak, but Hermione just kept on ranting. "One would think after all this time, you'd realize there's actual people waiting at home for you, who actually give a shit about you! Not once have you tried to talk to us about it, but you'd rather just bury your sorrows in a bloody bottle of booze!"

"Hermione-" He tried, only to be cut off again.

"No! You will _not_ interrupt me Harry. Time and time again I've tried to help you, only for you to give up halfway through! I'm just thankful that you haven't become violent due to your drunken hazes, but the very _least_ you could do is not stumble home half past three in the bloody morning! But nooooo-"

"Hermione! There was an attack at the bar!"

His words had the desired effect, as his best friend clamped up immediately.

"Auror's pulled me out of muggle police custody," He explained further, emboldened by her silence. "I answered some questions, and then left."

"Oh," She said meekly. "Well alright then."

He didn't blame her, not really. Harry cleaned off the blood from the incident at the bar before he entered the house, she couldn't have known. Besides, what she was saying was _right_ anyway.

"Don't think it gets you off the hook just yet, Teddy and I hate seeing you like that."

Harry knew all this, and it was becoming tiresome to hear it again and again. When would she give up? When would she learn that there was no hope for him? He loved and appreciated Hermione so much, more than she could ever know, but her incessant nagging that had carried on from their school years really grated on his nerves.

"Ron has invited you over for tomorrow, and you _best_ show up sober." She said that last part with a bit of a yawn, and Harry knew he had succeeded in omitting a certain part of his night from her.

"Alright then," He said with a nod. "G'night Hermione."

She mumbled her own good night, and then Harry went downstairs to bring a now sleeping Teddy to his bedroom, before falling asleep in his own a few minutes later.

* * *

"Oi! Pocket any of those and you'll pay for it in more than just galleons. George, where in the bloody hell did you put our spare decoy detonators, we're all out in the front!"

Harry watched on in amusement as Ronald Weasley bustled around the joke shop grumbling expletives and threatening would be thief's as he went into the backroom. It was nice to see one of his best friends be incredibly successful. After Fred and Ginny, the Weasley's were never really the same, but Ron really stepped up to help George run the shop. Even now, if one looked hard enough, they might catch a familiar mischievous glint in George's eyes every now and then. It also hurt, to see everyone else move on while Harry himself could only stay in one spot, like he was being left behind.

"Gimme a moment, Ron." Came George's muffled voice.

He looked around, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was as busy as ever, teens and even a fair number of adults filled the joke shop, but when a few finally noticed Harry, it was like a sea parting for him. He could hear a few of the inhabitants murmur about him as he walked through the shop, carefully dodging a miniature toy Umbridge walking on a tightrope perilously close to his head.

Harry smiled politely at the cashier, whom he remembered meeting in his sixth year, before walking into the backroom. He nearly bumped into Ron as the redhead was standing just inside the room.

"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed. "Didn't expect you this soon, mate." He said jovially.

This is what he liked about Ron, never trying to fuss over him like Hermione and most of the others would. Ron wasn't exactly subtle, but that just meant Harry'd be able to prepare for it better when it looked like Ron would try and broach the subject. He waited around for a bit, chatting idly with George before Ron was finally ready to take an extended lunch break. They apparated to the Leaky Cauldron, not Harry's ideal location, but Ron had insisted. Sure enough, after they had ordered and gotten a seat, almost everyone was looking at them.

"I'll never get used to that," Ron muttered as he drank his butter beer. He had ordered Harry a glass of Otter's Fizzy Orange Juice, a drink that tasted suspiciously like the Orange Crush muggle drink, but with a hint of vanilla.

Harry had to resist the urge to roll his eyes at the gesture, but accepted the drink nonetheless.

They chatted about nothing of importance for a while, and it was nice to see his best mate again. Jokes were made, laughs were had, and it was an all around pleasant experience. That is, only up until Ron grew suddenly silent, a focused look on his face that Harry knew meant he was psyching himself up in his head for something.

"Got a letter the other day," He began slowly, and Harry blinked. This wasn't what he thought Ron would try to say. But then it dawned on him that it could've been a letter from Hermione asking him to have a chat with Harry. "From head Auror Tiberius Davis." At this, Harry nearly choked on his drink, Davis had written to Ron? But why?

"They asked me about coming back in to do Auror work, said my marks from when I was a trainee were good enough to warrant it."

He didn't know whether to feel even more scared or just relieved at the information.

"Did they ask you too?"

Scared. Definitely scared.

Harry hesitated to answer for a moment, and that was all it took for Ron to nod, "Figured."

His heart rate picked up, and the fear must've been evident on his face, for even Ron picked up on it too.

"Blimey mate, you're as pale as a ghost!" He joked, before frowning. "You didn't... accept it, did you?"

Another long pause, and Ron's eyebrows shot up to hide behind his fringe. "Hermione doesn't know about this, does she?"

Harry shook his head dejectedly, not quite meeting Ron's eyes.

"Bloody hell, Harry, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking she'd make me accept it," He muttered. "And I don't want to."

Ron looked confused, "Well why not?"

Harry wrung his hands together nervously, "You didn't hear what I heard. They sent you a letter, yeah? I went in person, and the situation's serious, mate."

He then caught him up on what Tiberius Davis had told him at the Auror office. Ron was stunned to say the least.

"Death Eater's back to life? Blimey..." His face was paler than normal, and he broke out into a small sweat. Ron's grip around the glass of Butter beer was becoming worrying as well. "You... you think it's true then? What they said?"

Harry shrugged, "Why would they lie about something like this?"

Ron had no answer for that.

* * *

In a dark forrest, miles and miles away from Britain, a cloaked figure stood in a clearing, surrounded by other similarly robed people.

"My friends, we are gathered here today for a momentous occasion." The main figure stated. "After months of meticulous planning, I am glad to announce that we have successfully infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. And in a few days time, who knows how far we will get? Credit, of course, must be given to those who have greatly helped the cause." The man waved a hand towards the crowd, beckoning a few forward. "Zabini, Nott, Jugson, Yaxley." He called out, as five of the hooded figures walked towards him. "You have all done your Lord well, there will be rewards awaiting you in due time, my friends." He turned to the unnamed one, and lifted a hand to caress the persons cheek through the hood. "But you, out of everyone else, my dear, will have the biggest role of them all."

Once they returned to the rest of the group, the leader's voice grew cold.

"Rowle," He spat disdainfully. "Step forward."

An incredibly large robed figure stepped out from the crowd, an knelt before the leader.

"You have failed me, Rowle. Leaving your post and brethren behind to gulp down a filthy muggle drink."

The man before him was visibly shaking, and some of the other's shifted around nervously. They had of course, seen something like this happen many times before, but that did not mean they were used to it just yet.

" _Crucio!_ "

Blood curdling screams echoed through the forest, disturbing a few of the sleepy animals and making a few crows fly off in annoyance.

After what seemed like an eternity, the torture stopped. The leader was breathing heavily, despite not actually doing much. 

"You all have your new assignments, so go." 

Nearly all the robed people left with loud cracks, all except one. It was the person from before that the man had addressed personally.

"M'lord?" The female voice enquired hesitantly.

He nodded sharply, indicating that she could continue.

"May I ask, why this place, out of all the others? Surely there are better and more safer choices at your disposal?"

The man let out a small chuckle, though it sounded hollow. "My dear, is that a hint of fear I detect in your voice? Rest assured, I have no intention of punishing you for a fair question. It's quite simple, really. Those other places have no value to me, merely fledgling empires struggling to get off the ground. There is nothing there that I would find useful of my time. I know you and your fellow Death Eaters like to pillage and cause mayhem, I am no different, but here, in a society trying to rebuild and move forward? That is an empire most fun to tear back down to the ground."

There was a long pause as the woman truly let those words sink in. Was that the true point of it all? Cruelty for cruelty's sake? He was right when he said that most of his disciples enjoyed to bring destruction to lowly towns, it was easy, little to no resistance. She was above that sort of thing, what fun was there to be had fighting against an opponent that doesn't want to fight? Or against one that was so inept it didn't even matter?

"Have you ever heard the story of Sisyphus?"

When she shook her head, he continued. "It is an old Greek myth about a king that became infamous for his general trickery and twice cheating death. Eventually, as all villains in stories do, he ultimately got his comeuppance when Zeus dealt him the eternal punishment of forever rolling a boulder up a hill in the depths of Hades. Every time the boulder reached the top of the hill, it would fall back down, thus causing the cycle to repeat. He was a creator of a great many things in Greek culture, but he is nowadays best remembered as a poignant symbol of the folly of those who seek to trifle with the natural order of things and avoid humanity's sad but inescapable mortality." 

Something dawned on her then, and a look of understanding washed over her face.

"Go now, for you are not the only one that must be somewhere right now. But fear not, soon enough, Britain will know that their Dark Lord has returned."

* * *

Loud music blared from the speakers in the bar, some sort of rock band that Harry wasn't familiar with. Not that he cared enough anyway, hell, he was barely listening to whatever David was blabbering on about in the moment. 

"I lost it. Just lamped him one. They went and banned me didn't they? 'M real sorry, 'Arry, didn't know you'd get in trouble too."

Harry shook his head and sipped his drink. "S'okay, David. Reckon drinking without you'd be bloody boring anyway." He smiled at his friend as they shared a short laugh.

So yeah, he didn't go home after seeing Ron. Instead, Harry elected to retreat to a bottle. It was scummy and terrible of him, but it'd been the norm for a while now, they'd all get over it eventually.

Or they wouldn't and he'd be so, so alone again. At least that way, there'd be no one to stop him from drinking himself to death. Was that messed up? He didn't know at this point. Did it even matter?

"Got a job offer the other day," He said abruptly, not knowing why he was even bothering David with any of it. He had to be careful not to reveal anything, lest he break the statute of secrecy. 

David blinked at him, "Well that's brilliant, Harry!" He said, clapping him on the back. "Congrats!"

"I didn't accept it."

Now David looked confused. "Well why the bloody 'ell not? I mean I know you're rich, your multiple tabs across England's bars speaks for itself, but you can't expect me to believe you want to drink yourself into a stupor day and night, right?"

Harry shifted around uncomfortably in his seat, and gave David a sheepish look.

"Bloody 'ell, mate." He chuckled. "Must've been a shite job."

"You don't know the half of it."

There was a pause before, "Tell me about it, then."

"Really?"

"Really."

For the second time today, Harry explained the job offer he had received the day before. Albeit, omitting the parts that would out him as a wizard. Perhaps job offer wasn't even the right term, he mused, they hadn't discussed any means of payment after all. He spoke about how the offer had brought back traumatic memories from his childhood, and how he was uncomfortable with taking it.

David sat there for a while, staring at his own drink. "I think," He began slowly. "That if you put this off, facing your fears in the future will be much harder. Get ahead of it, mate. Overcome that fear and doubt."

Harry shook his head morosely. "It's not that easy, David."

The other man snorted, "'Course it isn't easy, mate. But that's the point, innit? Life's not easy, and we have to do things we'd rather not, but if we can _beat_ this obstacle in our lives? We become unstoppable."

He said it with so much confidence, Harry couldn't help but be caught up in it. What if David was right? The longer he put this off, the harder it would be when Harry inevitably had to come to terms with it. Ignoring things would only make things worse for himself. Drinking, it turned out, did _not_ solve all his problems, Harry thought dryly. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, that he didn't even notice David get up and walk over to some drunken man that after Harry had looked properly, seemed to be accosting another woman.

There were some heated words and even a few shoves, before David smashed his glass against the man's head.

"Come on then, let's 'ave it! I don't give a shit pal." David shouted, as he began to jostle with the other man.

Harry sighed, "Not again." He muttered.

* * *

In the Department of Mysteries, an Unspeakable that stayed after hours to get some extra work done, was fiddling with some complicated device that would have surely utterly perplexed a normal person. Hard work and many sleepless nights spent in school to get to where he was now. It was with great pride that after the war he became an Unspeakable for the ministry. Truthfully, most of the work at the start was rebuilding the department from the ground up after Harry Potter's venture into the place back in nineteen-ninety five. If he wasn't so enraptured by the object in his hands, maybe he would have realized that someone else was in the room with him.

Luckily, the other person made a grave mistake.

They got cocky.

The loud noise of a cloak being thrown off made the man turn to see something that terrified him to the core. His hands were too slow to grab for his wand, and in an instant he was disarmed.

"W-what? No." He was scared, more scared than he could ever remember being in his entire life. He was an Unspeakable, yes, but even this was too much for him to comprehend.

The attacker raised his wand and levelled it at him. He squeezed his eyes shut, this was surely the end.

"Theodore?" A soft voice said. "What are you doing?"

Both heads snapped to the blonde woman in the doorway, and before he could even think of doing anything, a green light shot out of the mans wand and struck the woman square in the face. She was dead before she even hit the ground.

He scampered over to the door, but felt an invisible force sweep him off his feet and into a wall. 

"H-how is this possible?" He whimpered. "I-I don't understand."

The man just grinned, and impossibly wide smile that looked painful to pull off. As if what he did tonight brought him great joy.

"Wouldn't expect you to."

It was not long then, until he met the same fate as the woman from before, an oppressive jet of green marking the end of his days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel as if I'm moving along too fast. Please let me know what you think of it all so far, and sorry for the week long wait.
> 
> A/N: Updated on September 23rd, 2020. Changed a bit of the dialogue on Sisyphus. I felt like it dragged on a little too much. Also fixed some confusing wording.


	3. Transported

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry agrees to be a consultant, and in the end finds a doorway to another dimension.

_Be silent. This is the best part._

* * *

The next day, after another lunch out with Ron, this one much more lighthearted than the day's previous meeting between the two friends. Harry was very surprised at what greeted him once he got home.

There was faint giggling as he took his shoes off in the entrance way, which just confused him. He hadn't heard anybody in this house make noises like that in a very long time. Which, he lamented to himself with a sharp pang of guilt, was his own fault, really. As he walked over to where the noise was coming from, what he saw shocked him.

Teddy was there, left home alone for the short time Harry had been out, as Hermione was at work. But, he _wasn't_ alone. Sitting with him at a toy table, in a chair far too small for her, and playing with his action figures, was Tracey Davis.

She played with the young metamorphmagus, creating her own battle sound effects and miming explosions with her hands. Teddy, looked extremely entertained, giggling hysterically at the Auror's antics, his hair changing colour to match her own light brown hair. Some fell in her face as she laughed along with him, and she absently brushed a few curls out of her face.

Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, and both heads snapped up to look at him.

"Er, hello." He said.

Tracey dropped the action figures like they were on fire or something, and blushed quite prettily at being caught like that.

"Hello, Potter. I came by to speak to you, Teddy here opened the door for me and allowed me to wait here until you got home." She explained.

"I see that." He commented, before narrowing his eyes at his godson. "Why did you let someone you don't know in?" 

Teddy avoided looking Harry in the eyes. "She said she was here to speak to you, and she was really nice!"

Harry resisted the urge to snap at the boy. "Ted, you know as well as I do that some people will say _anything_ to get inside my house, right?" He wanted to go on further, but stopped himself at Teddy's crestfallen look and sighed. "It's alright, Ted. Tracey isn't like that, just don't do it again."

He didn't really know that for sure, but from what he saw, Harry doubted he was wrong. This is _not_ how he was expecting his day to go. Merlin, he needed a drink.

"I've come to apologize for what I said back at the Ministry, it was out of line, and I'm sorry." Tracey said, breaking the silence. She was wringing her hands together, as if she was nervous. "It's just, what you said bothered me. I felt like it was your duty to come back and help, but I didn't realize that shoving that much information on you and expecting you to just join up was stupid."

Harry was stunned, which happening to him more and more lately. This was a far cry from the woman he had met two days prior, confident, a little too talkative and it felt like her brain was going in a million different lines of thought at once. Now she was to the point, and more reserved. He realized that she only looked more worse as he stayed silent, becoming more nervous and eyes darting every which way.

"Um," He said quite eloquently. "It's okay, really."

The effect was instantaneous, Tracey visibly deflated. "Thank Merlin," She breathed out. "Does this mean you've reconsidered our offer?"

He shook his head. "No. I haven't." It wasn't a total lie, he'd only been thinking about it, and just how damn _scared_ he was of accepting. Because that was it wasn't it? Harry Potter, the 'Chosen One', golden boy Gryffindor, was scared. Terrified, even, of accepting that offer and therefore accepting the fact that his greatest enemies have come back from the dead. He was even more scared by this inner desire to do it, to jump back into the fray. Because Hermione was right when she said he had a 'saving people thing' all those years ago. A part of him actually _wanted_ to help.

But he couldn't. The memories, the pain, it was all still fresh. All still very real for him. Everyone else had moved on, but Harry was rooted to the spot. Scampering off to some seedy bar in the hopes that he could drown it all away in a boat load of alcohol. Thinking this time, maybe it'll get better, and it won't hurt as much anymore.

It never did.

Despite everything, Harry wasn't stupid. He knew it had to end, but he didn't have the strength to do it.

Tracey didn't seem surprised at his answer, but she wasn't quite done yet. "Okay, but how about coming to the Ministry, just to review some of the cases, give us information on them? More of an advisory role instead of full on field work." She saw the shake of his head at the prospect, but quickly carried on forward. "Anything you give us could save _lives._ And despite how much you may want to believe it isn't true, my reality is that I have to deal with it all. So _please_ , just come in, and tell us what you know about some of these guys."

Every part of his body was screaming to say no, to shut her down and ask her to never contact him again. He'd read the paper this morning, another attack, this time on a family. A mother and father, as well as a little boy, barely older than Teddy. Harry looked down to his godson, someone he loved as his _own_ and realized that something like that could've happened to him, and then where would Harry be? Teddy was his anchor, a reminder of what he once fought to protect. He remembered David's words the night before, about how it was never easy, but that we had to face our fears anyway. A louder voice piped up in his head, one that sounded suspiciously like Hermione. One that told him he had to go in, because it was the _right_ thing to do. It was only to consult right? There was no harm in it.

"Okay," He said quietly. "I'll come."

* * *

It'd been an hour since Harry had arrived at the Ministry as a consultant for the Auror office on the Death Eaters he knew of from the war. He felt as if the whole thing was just an excuse to try and bring him over like they originally wanted, as what he knew wasn't all that helpful. Of the few Death Eaters he was able to give good information on, most of them were in Azkaban or in the case of Lucius and Draco Malfoy, pardoned for what Narcissa had done for Harry in the forbidden forest at the end of the war.

Sadly, it was kind've working. He saw Hermione that day for the few minutes she had off as a higher up in the regulation and control of magical creatures department. Harry was immensely proud of her achievement, though he never said it enough. He quickly explained to her that he was here to consult with the Auror's, Hermione's face lit up. It was clear that she was happy he was out doing something instead of lazing about at home or drinking with David. She was smiling as she got back to work.

Currently, though, he was regretting his decision.

"It's quite ridiculous honestly, Harry. Some people have to realize that these travel bans are implemented for a _reason._ The newest upgrades to Portkey's - while ingenious - is not Ministry approved as of yet. I mean, have you heard about what happened to that young wizarding family in Leeds? All of them ended up across the globe from each other because they used this new line."

Percy Weasley was head of the department of transportation, so it baffled Harry that he was able to take lunch breaks like this. He didn't want to be rude though, so he patiently sat through Percy's rant about some sort of new Portkey that Harry didn't really understand the need for. Something about being able to cover larger distances, even surpassing borders of countries and the like. According to Percy, it was unethical to enter countries like that without authorization.

Arthur ate with them too, but he was much more reserved. It was to be expected, Harry hadn't spoken to any of the Weasley's save for Ron and George in some time. Since last Christmas, if he remembered correctly. It was his fault, really, he never bothered to reach out himself, and growing distant with the closest thing he had to family was the consequence.

Tracey, bless her, sat there next to him as well. Probably just as bored but was able to hide it better. He thought back to when he had walked into Grimmauld Place earlier in the day and saw her playing with Teddy. It was nice to see the boy be happy, even if it pained Harry to know that it wasn't because of him.

They walked around the Ministry, and Tracey not-so-subtly showed him all the departments and how they've developed after the war. No doubt it was a bid to peak his interest.

"All the departments are back in full swing, probably even busier than before, honestly. I heard from Varn that some poor firstie had accidentally made his cousin turn completely purple _and_ made him speak another language, mad innit? Only accidental magic I ever performed was making sparks come out my finger." She had said.

It was pretty interesting, and Harry was sure that if he asked Hermione about it she'd know a frightening amount of information on the subject. During the war, a lot of families died out, either killed by one side or the other. Afterwards too, a lot of the old pureblood families were heavily dispersed. As far as he knew, he and Teddy were the only living members of the Black family. Harry wasn't even totally sure about Teddy either, due to Andromeda being struck from the family by Walburga Black when she had left to marry Ted Tonks. He wasn't a direct descendant either, Sirius had just willed the estate to him, thus making Harry the lord of the house. It entailed a possible seat on the Wizengamot among other more boring things, but the likeliness of Harry ever willingly delving into politics was slim to say the least. The dying out of the old ways meant more people cared less and less about marrying muggles and muggleborns. It was too early to tell, but it seemed like the wizarding world in Britain was on a sort of rebound.

"I once blew up my aunt," He admitted, as they walked towards the department of mysteries. "Inflated her like a balloon."

Tracey burst out laughing at that, earning quite a few glares from some of the Unspeakables nearby eating their lunches.

"Some of us like to eat in peace, Davis." A dull voice rang out as they walked by.

"Piss off, Nott." Was her reply. "Don't mind them, they're a pretentious lot. And the few that still work here from before the war likely don't trust you for breaking a lot of the stuff in there a few years ago. Normally, we wouldn't be allowed to just enter the department like this, regulations and all that, but there's not much to see anymore so they've started to allow more and more people to come in." She turned back to Harry, cerulean eyes dancing with mirth. "But that's brilliant! Bet it was funny."

Momentarily stunned, there was a moment where he struggled to answer. "Quite terrifying at first really, thought the Ministry would snap my wand and chuck me into Azkaban."

There was more guffaws at that, and Harry tried to keep a look of mock annoyance on his face, but eventually ended up grinning along as well.

Spending time with Tracey was actually pretty fun. She was carefree and quick witted, but it was also clear that when it came to being an Auror, she took it very serious.

"Dawlish's an idiot that spends too much time kissing my dads arse while still talking shit behind his back. Most of the others aren't much better, the only ones I can really stand at all are Proudfoot, Savage, and Millicent."

Apparently, out of all the departments, the Auror office has developed the least.

"Not many people want to throw their lives into it so soon after a war, even less so after you dropped out."

He felt a twinge of guilt at that, but Tracey just shook her head. "More will come in eventually, and truthfully, if not for, er, the current situation, we probably wouldn't need that many new recruits."

They stood by a door, one that led to the department of mysteries. This was a different entrance than the one that Harry had entered into in his fifth year. It struck him then, that they had wandered aimlessly into the department itself, and the low murmuring of the cafeteria area for the Unspeakable's was now gone. It was replaced by an eerie silence. He turned, only to see Tracey was gone.

_What the fuck?_

The door from moments earlier was behind him now, not in front. It took one look away for the whole room to change. Unlike the antechamber Harry and his friends had found themselves in years prior, this room felt like one you'd find in any home. Only, something was all very _off._ Harry could not tell which door was the one he came from, and it all creeped him out immensely. His heart rate picked up, and he could feel his palms start to sweat. How could he get out of here?

There were four doors surrounding him in the room. It was decently big but still made him feel claustrophobic. The door to his left was fairly normal and brown. It had very little damage or blemishes on it, which could not be said for some of the other's. As Harry approached, he could hear what sounded like a shower head spouting water. It seemed fairly harmless but he wasn't stupid enough to naively believe it. He tried the knob just to see if it would open, but was denied as it refused to budge. On the right adjacent wall was a light green door with chipped paint. Behind it, Harry could hear harsh breathing that sounded _far_ too close for comfort. Needless to say, he didn't try opening that one. Harry backed up slowly and then turned to inspect the remaining two doors. 

Before that though, something else entirely caught his attention. Sitting on a table that Harry swore wasn't there before, was a paper bag. Whatever was inside the bag caused the bottom to be wet and soggy.

No way he was touching _that._ It didn't do anything - _yet -_ so Harry didn't waste anymore time looking at it. The door near the bag was purple in colour, with less chipping than the green one, but still not as new looking as the brown door. Harry pressed his ear to the door and heard some sort of music being played in reverse, worsening the sinking feeling in his stomach. Was there an escape from this place?

Finally, he approached the last door. It was in pristine condition, and looked brand new. Baby blue in colour, with a golden door knob, Harry felt an inexplicable desire to go inside. It was as if the door itself was beckoning to him, like it had a mind of its own. This train of thought would normally disturb him, but that thought was shoved out of his mind as the need to yank the door open was starting to overcome him. He noticed though, as he stepped closer, that the door was _already_ open. Not all the way, of course, but it was ajar by a small bit. This meant it _wasn't_ locked like some of the others.

One step closer, and then another. Soon enough, Harry's hand was outstretched towards the knob. He was so _close_ now, just a little further...

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He yelped, and nearly tripped over himself. The strong desire to open the door was gone, instead he felt terror.

The bag had talked.

He stumbled backwards away from it. The brown paper bag made gave no indication that anything ever happened, but Harry was _certain_ he heard it speak.

"If you must, you must. What can I really do to stop you?" 

There it was, Harry's eyes widened in shock. It spoke again. The bag shifting as the words echoed out from within it. Its voice was deep and garbled, and Harry found it a little difficult to discern exactly what was being said.

"I walked." It said, which only added to Harry's confusion. "I could do nothing but walk. And then I saw me walking in front of myself. But, it wasn't really me."

The way it spoke now, seemed different to Harry. Before it talked as if it could understand Harry, but now the bag was monologuing.

"Watch out. The gap in the door... it's a separate reality. The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?"

He had no idea what to make of any of it. Harry stood there and waited for it to say more, but as the minutes ticked by the bag remained silent. He eyed the baby blue door that he had nearly entered, and instead of the desire to go in rushing through him, Harry only felt fear and revulsion. What had the bag meant by it being a separate reality? The door certainly had a gap, and Harry's terror continued to mount.

What had he almost done? If he went through the door, what would he see? His curiosity made him want to reach out for the knob again, but the bag's words of warning kept his hands at his sides. So instead, he turned and ran straight for the nearest door, realizing all too late that it was the light green one that he had just wrenched open. He ran inside before his mind could fully comprehend his actions, and a bright flash of white greeted him, temporarily leaving Harry blinded.

When his sight came back, he was greeted to concerned cerulean eyes and a shouted "Harry!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Not sure I pulled off the supernatural parts quite well, but sspecially about the pacing, still worried about how fast it's progressing but truthfully, there's quite a few more twist and turns left in this story. Also, before anyone says it, I know I stole the paper bag thing and it's ending quote from P.T. But I feel like I'm using it in more ways than the game ever did, and adding in its own little personality.


	4. How To Disappear Completely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry regresses.

_You are broken. You cannot be fixed._

* * *

"Harry!"

Tracey stared down at him, there was a crowd of people behind her as well. Harry could pick out a few notable names, like Nott, Arthur, and oh, Kingsley Shacklebolt, the bloody minister of magic.

Realizing he was still on the ground, Harry stood up quickly. "I'm fine," He muttered.

"Bullocks you're fine, Potter, you disappeared for two hours! One moment you're right next to me, the next you're gone and I can't find you!" She nearly yelled.

Harry's eyes bulged, two hours? It only felt like ten minutes at most! He spun around to look at the door he came out of, but it was gone.

He was starting to get scared now, even more than before. Just what the hell happened to him?

There wasn't time to think on it though, for Theodore Nott was by his side, looking a little panicked as well. Harry found that weird, but reasoned that losing the Chosen One in your department wasn't good for business.

Nott had dark wavy hair, and sunken eyes. He held a notepad and quill in hand. "Can you describe to me in great detail what happened? This could be invaluable to our research."

Tracey glared at Nott. "He went missing in your own department, you prat! Figure it out on _your_ own how you lost him!"

His retort was lost to Harry, for he met Arthur and Kingsley's eyes, and nodded. He was fine, for now. He caught something in Kingsley's eye though, that surely meant they'd be speaking later.

"We're just glad you're okay, son." Arthur said before hugging him. "Come by the Burrow sometime, alright? Molly and I miss you terribly."

Harry nodded shakily, "I'll try." He said.

Arthur gave him a ghost of a smile, and then left with Kingsley, moving people in the crowd aside to get through.

He turned back to Nott, who was no longer arguing with Tracey. "I'll tell you everything I can," He assured the man. "Perhaps a bit later though? I'm a bit out of sorts."

Nott nodded tersely, "That is acceptable."

He walked away, and Harry grinned when he heard Tracey mutter "prick" under her breath.

"Move out of my way!" A shrill voice yelled out. "Harry!"

Never in his life had he received a hug like this, as Hermione burst through the crowd, looking very dishevelled and furious. He was scared for a moment, but when she leapt onto him he relaxed a bit. "Are you alright? Oh Harry what happened?!"

He explained that he got lost, and bits of what happened. As weird as he felt, there was no way he'd brush it off to Hermione, she'd never let it go.

"We're going home," She stated after a while, grabbing his hand and yanking him along. He waved goodbye pitifully to Tracey. "Move it!" Hermione yelled to the crowd. There were a few yelps as they all jumped away to let them through.

"Merlin, you're scary." Harry said.

"Good." Hermione replied brusquely.

They apparated home, and Harry completely missed the pink tinge to her cheeks.

* * *

Dinner was a quiet affair, Hermione steadfastly refused to let him leave the house to meet David at a pub. Not ideal, but Teddy seemed to be happy, and Hermione wasn't glowering at him like usual. He ate gratefully, and there was some semblance of normality for the three that night. Of course, later, Hermione demanded an explanation of what happened. Harry had little choice but to oblige.

She furrowed her brow and stared off at nothing in particular. She was concentrating, and he knew better than to interrupt her. Teddy was asleep by now, and it was just the two of them in the kitchen.

Harry often wondered where he'd be without her, when she put up with him like this.

_Dead. You'd be dead, Potter._

After a while, she huffed, and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't understand how it happened, but I suppose that's why it's called the department of mysteries."

He was shocked, to say the least. "Really?"

Hermione frowned at him. "Yes, Harry. I don't know _everything._ "

"Could've fooled me." He said jokingly, but she didn't even crack a smile.

"You could have died today."

The mood was now drastically different. At dinner it was light, happy, even. Now it was much too serious for his liking. Merlin, where was a drink when he needed it? No, he needed to stop thinking like that.

Harry shrugged, "I'm sure you would've found me eventually."

She shook her head, "Don't be so sure, according to the head Unspeakable, that maze of rooms is a brand new development. It's all quite fascinating really, I wish I became an unspeakable sometimes, what they research is really fascinating! Did you know that - Harry why are you smiling at me like that? Am I rambling again?"

"Yes," He said with a laugh. "But don't worry, it's quite adorable."

Hermione gave him an odd look, but shook her head and turned away. "Teddy told me you went out."

"Yeah, ate with Ron again." He said. "Sorry about leaving him alone, completely forgot to ask Molly or someone to look after him."

She waved him off. "That's alright, not like anyone could break in anyway."

"Er, yeah. Right."

Hermione looked at him confusedly. "Harry? Did something happen?"

Ruddy kid, Ted must've not told her Tracey was inside long before he ever got home.

He rubbed the back of his neck, "Er, well, y'see-"

Harry then explained what had happened, after each pause Hermione seemed to grow more and more annoyed, especially when he told her about leaving with Tracey.

"I think I'll head to bed." Hermione said suddenly.

"Wha-?"

"Yes, I've a long day tomorrow. Goodnight."

And she stomped up the stairs to her room.

* * *

"Girls mate, we'll never understand 'em."

Harry sighed, Ron's advice was what he expected, which wasn't much.

"Take Luna, for example." He said through a mouthful of food. "I've only been exchanging letters with her these past few days."

"Well that's not weird," Harry remarked, idly tossing a napkin at Ron's face. "She's probably busy."

Ron swiped it out of the air and shook his head though, "Nah, mate. Even when the department was at its busiest, Luna still made time to visit."

Harry shrugged, it _might've_ been weird. He hadn't spoken to her in a while, which made him feel guilty as the girl was a good friend, but he still thought Ron was overreacting. They continued to eat in silence, merely just enjoying each other's company. It was not until they got their food that they were joined by George.

"Sorry I'm late, only just managed to get someone to look over the shop." He said while taking the seat next to Harry. "You made the paper again, mate." George commented, pulling out a rolled up copy of the _Daily Prophet_ from his robes, and handing it over. 

On the front page, was the biggest load of shite Harry had ever laid his eyes on recently. And that was saying something when one considered the pubs he frequented. There was a picture of him, enveloped in a bear hug from Hermione. Nothing really out of the ordinary for anyone who knew the two friends, but the local news rag couldn't exactly claim to in the first place.

"Has the Boy-Who-Won finally found love?" He snorted, showing the paper to Ron for him to read. "Must be a slow day if they're going back to this old well. How many times has it been now? Fourteen?"

"Fifteen," George corrected with a grin. "You're forgetting that time at the press conference in Leeds."

Harry nodded his head, "Right."

He remembered that day, one of the few good ones in recent memory. Hermione had addressed many people about the new policies her department was cooking up for various species' like elves and centaurs. She asked him to come, not in the least expecting he'd follow through. It was a particularly bad time for him, even worse than how it was now - though these past few outings with Ron were admittedly very nice. When he actually _did_ show up though, well, her reaction was something special. Hermione's expression that day was truly a thing to behold, a downright glowing smile plastered on her face made the trip there worth it in the end.

Still, the _Prophets_ desire to forever be interested in his love life - or lack thereof - especially when Hermione's involved, never ceased to amuse and annoy him. 

It was not until Harry read further, that it became something else entirely. It wasn't amusement anymore, nor was it annoyance. It was soul crushing sadness.

_Many believed that after the death of Ginerva Weasley in 1997, that Harry Potter was done with matters of the heart. But when Mr. Potter had disappeared in an incident inside the department of mysteries, who should engulf him in a lovers embrace but one Hermione Granger? Time and time again there's been plenty of evidence of their mutual attraction, have we now just seen the confirmation of what the wizarding world has thought to already be true for almost a decade?_

Harry only saw the beginning, what came after never really registered. Terrible and long repressed memories flooded back to him and his hands started to shake. Ginny's eyes empty and dead, Remus and Tonks' bodies seemingly sleeping peacefully on the ground in the Great Hall, Fred's last laugh before being blown away, Lavender Brown's neck torn open and gushing blood, Neville's headless corpse all those years later, Andromeda sick and dying in a hospital bed, imploring Harry to look after Teddy.

Too much, it was all too much. How could they write about such meaningless garbage like that? Didn't they understand? That not everyone was done grieving, not everyone was over it? It sickened him, made him want to throw up. He clenched the paper, nails digging into and ripping it up where he held it.

"Mate?" Ron said hesitantly, but he would receive no response.

He didn't even register standing up, but in an instant Harry was gone, harshly shoving by George and ignoring his and Ron's calls as all eyes in the Leaky Cauldron were on him.

* * *

"You look like you've seen better days, mate."

Harry did not look up at the voice, instead he decided to focus his attention on finishing his sixth shot of vodka. It tasted like shitty medicine, but after a few more, he'd start to feel better.

Or not. He didn't particularly care anymore.

"I always look like that, David." Harry said inattentively, signalling the bartender for more. "It's part of my charm."

The seat next to him audibly splintered a bit as David sat down. "Alright then, you look _more_ depressed than usual tonight. Something happen?"

Curse him and his annoying perceptiveness.

"S'nothing, Davey. Just another shitty day."

David nodded, "Have a lot more o' those than we like, eh?"

"Hear, hear."

There was a long pause, in which the two just sat there and said nothing. Music played softly over the speakers, a stark contrast to the normal abrasive rock that played at most of the other locations he and David frequented. Though he may have not wanted to talk about it, having his friend there was nice. Someone who didn't know who Harry was, someone he could just have _fun_ with. More than that though, Harry appreciated how much David seemed to care. All it took was a text from his muggle cell phone and Harry's rowdy friend was there.

"Just some bad memories coming back to me." He admitted softly after a while.

David exhaled slowly, "We all have those mate." 

Harry shook his head, "Not like these." He croaked out, feeling suddenly very emotional. "These are the kind that make you wish things happened differently, that it went _better._ But they didn't, and you can't change it. So instead you just- you just want to-" He slammed his fist down on the bar table. David didn't try to bear hug him like Hermione would, nor did he place a reassuring hand on his shoulder like Ron might've done. Truthfully, Harry wasn't sure if there was a proper response at all. Nothing would have made him feel better at the moment. Well, besides another round maybe.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" He asked softly, and the concern in David's voice was almost touching.

Harry snorted, though it was empty. "Not unless you can tell me how to disappear completely."

"I dunno if that's the right solution, 'Arry."

He shrugged, "Might be worth a try."

There was nothing to be said after that, and so the two of them sat in tense silence as Harry further drank himself into oblivion.

* * *

When he slept that night, it was the first time in a few months that Harry was not plagued by nightmares. This, however, did not mean the dream was entirely pleasant.

He was back at Hogwarts, not the battle, thankfully, but sixth year. When his attraction to Ginny was at its highest. It was foolish, he thought in retrospect. To believe that he could have something that resembled a future with her, when there was death all around him. His parents, Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore. All dead. Not to mention the ones that came after. There were many times in the years that followed, that Harry considered giving up. To leave this plane and join his family in the after life. To go... _on_ , as Dumbledore had put it long ago. It was a selfish desire, one he could hardly admit to _himself_ much less to his closest friends. 

Harry wandered aimlessly through the halls on his own. There were other students there, but he couldn't recognize their faces, and none of them paid any mind to him at all. There was a sensation in his gut that was foreign to him, something that was pulling Harry along in an unknown direction. Leading him... somewhere. Turning corners, up several flights of stairs until finally...

An inconspicuous corridor on the seventh floor.

That is, inconspicuous to most of the Hogwarts populous at the time. Harry of course, knew of what was truly here. The Room of Requirement. He had spent a large amount of time here in his sixth year, trying to find out what Draco Malfoy was up to. It was also where... _she_ , died.

He knew then, as his legs took off to where the door would appear, that something wasn't quite right. Not bad, or sinister, but he knew that when his body moved for him, it wasn't under his own volition. Behind that door, there was something that Harry needed to see.

It opened, despite Harry not thinking of what he wanted beforehand. Like as if the room itself knew before even he did. It _should_ have creeped him out, but this was a dream, and they never much made sense or allowed for clear thinking at all times.

He entered the room, and it was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The room was divided in half. On Harry's side, it looked more or less like one of the training rooms used by the DA in fifth year. But on the other side, it was ethereal, fuzzy, almost. Comfortable armchairs adorned the other half, with a pristine cleanliness to it, and a welcoming atmosphere. And there, seated on one of the aforementioned armchairs, was Ginny. Just as beautiful as he remembered. She was reading a book, but when he entered, she looked up at him with a radiant smile.

Harry stumbled closer to her, still on his own side of the room. "Gin, I-" He croaked. "I've missed you so bloody _much._ "

Ginny nodded her head sadly, "I know, Harry."

He tried to cross over to her side of the room, but Harry was rebuffed by some invisible barrier. His hands slammed at what looked like thin air, but again he was met with a wall of sorts. Ginny's smile became melancholic and regretful.

"You can't stay here, love." She said.

Harry was confused, and angry. "What? But - why? Why can't I?"

"Because you can't."

He punched the barrier again in a vain attempt to somehow get through. There had to be a - wait. But, of course! It was so _simple._ Harry reached into his pocket for his wand, and started casting spells. In a short amount of time though, it became clear that this plan would not work either. His frustration was only added on to when Ginny shook her head at him.

"I'm not real."

He wouldn't listen though, "Don't say that - you're real enough to _me._ If I can just pass through, if you just let me in, we can be together again."

It was such sound logic to him, that it hurt so much when she again just shook her head. "Why do you keep doing that? Just _let me in_." His voice turned forceful, and Harry renewed his attempts to somehow push through the barrier.

"When you love someone," She began. "Your lives become tied together. You both share the happiness you create. It's like becoming one person, instead of two. And from thereon out, everything the two of you do goes to that same shared place. But, when your other half dies, you're suddenly left alone to carry the unimaginable burden of keeping those memories and feelings alive. To have to carry to with you for the rest of your life. I'm so sorry it had to be you, Harry. But you can't stay here. I wish things were different. You deserve the world, Harry Potter. You can't stay hung up on this, not when there's so much good you could be doing." She looked him straight in the eye, "You have to let go."

Her voice was becoming garbled and unintelligible, and Harry then fought even harder to get in. It was to no avail, and soon the scene around him blurred and faded until - 

"NOO!"

He jolted awake, sweating profusely in his bed. Hermione was there with him in her nightgown, looking startled.

"Harry! Are you okay? I came here to look for you but you wouldn't wake up! And then you just started screaming and I got so worri-"

She was silenced by a crushing hug from him, one that told her all she needed to know about his state at the moment. Her hands ran through his hair and wrapped around his back. "It's okay, Harry. I'm here. B-but, there's something I need to t-tell you."

Hermione pulled back, and he could see tears running down her face.

He was about to ask what was wrong, but she beat him to it.

"Luna's dead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated July 19th, 2020 to add a few more lines at the end from dream Ginny.


	5. It's a Wonderful Life

_Still attached to the fragments of his past life, he is drawn to those in need of help._

* * *

The world was a blur around him. Voices were muffled, and Harry wasn't focusing on anything in particular other than the swirling thoughts in his mind. 

Luna Lovegood was dead, he'd seen the body for himself not long ago. She still looked serene in death, her pale, beautiful face could have been mistaken for sleeping if he didn't know any better.

Ron was inconsolable, his nonstop sobbing the night before was now reduced to a frightening anger and determination. Harry made to look over at his best mate, but instead his eyes met familiar chocolate brown orbs just in front of him.

"Harry?" Hermione said gently, the area around her eyes still puffy with tears. There was a sudden clarity now, and the room he was in came back in focus. They were in Kingsley's office, the man himself was hunched over where Ron sat, muttering words that Harry could not hear. "I'm going to take him home now, but Kingsley's asked to have you stay. He said that he still wants to talk to you about what happened a few days ago."

He nodded, of course he'd want to know. On their way out, Ron turned to him and grasped Harry by the arm. "We have to find out who did this," He said, and by the dark look in his eyes, Harry knew he meant it. "And make them _pay._ " The venom in his voice struck something within Harry, and he could only offer a stiff nod as his best friends left the room.

Kingsley returned to the seat behind his desk and sighed. Harry took a moment to truly take in the Minister of Magic. In the short time he had been minister, Kingsley had brought many changes and had done so much to destroy the prejudice towards people like muggleborns, as well as werewolves, elves, and many more magical beings. Relationships with centaurs got better, and Firenze was still teaching Divination at Hogwarts to this day. Albeit, only with the fifth years and above while Trelawney looked after every year below. There were many more muggleborn workers in the ministry as well, Hermione was living proof of it. He made sure as best he could that the people in places of power had no bias towards the once looked down upon muggleborns. There was now a sub department in the magical creatures section for providing werewolves with wolfsbane potion to ease their transformations. It wasn't perfect, quite frankly there were too little people coming forward to sign up for the department to continue much longer. Though, being Harry Potter had its perks sometimes and somewhat annually donations helped to keep it afloat. Having the Potter and Black family vaults meant he was certainly not running out of money anytime soon. There were even goblins working at the ministry as well, not in just the liaison office either.

Once again, he thought back to Hermione. She had fought so very hard for all this to happen, and he couldn't be prouder.

Kingsley's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "Her death was no accident," He began. Harry knew this, of course, so he merely waited for the man to continue. "The body was found deep into the department of mysteries, back where the veil used to be."

Harry shuddered involuntarily, he remembered all to well the archway that Sirius fell through in his fifth year. Its otherworldly feeling still haunted him to this day. But wait, did he say...?

"What do you mean, _used to be_?"

Kingsley regarded him impassively for a moment, as if wondering wether or not he should divulge such information. "A few months ago, it moved." He said simply. "It's never done that before, apparently. But it would follow a theory that the Unspeakable's have had for a while now." Kingsley steepled his fingers together and sat forward. "The veil has been around as long as the ministry, and in that time not much has been discovered about it other than the certainty of death if one were to cross through it. No bodies have ever been recovered after going through the veil, but when it moved, everything changed. The Unspeakable's began studying it anew, wondering why and how this could have happened. The chambers move all the time, always shifting. But this is the first time the one with the veil has ever been switched around." He eyed some paper work on his desk warily before speaking again. "The Unspeakable's, they've come up with nothing. But Luna's death has forced me to ask some uncomfortable questions. Like if someone was trying to get to the veil, but either did not know it moved or forgot the correct room in which the new location was. Either way, this person had to have been an Unspeakable, such knowledge is certainly not made readily available for the public eye, not even after Voldemort's reign of terror."

The revelation was startling, to say the least, but Harry was still wondering where Kingsley was going with all this.

"I know of the offer made to you by the Auror office, I was in fact the one to pitch the idea in the first place." There was a long pause. "Harry, the graves of the fallen Death Eaters are not empty. When the issue was first brought up, my first action was to check where they were buried, and none of them were disturbed. Typically, we'd just dig a pitiful pit near Azkaban for the likes of them. But in light of a new age, an idea was given to me by Hermione to give them a proper burial. Something about being honourable and to act unlike how they would have. Just to further set us apart. I'll tell you one thing, while I might think it's too good for scum like that... Hermione's a better person than I'll ever be."

Harry couldn't help but smile softly at that. It was hard not to agree.

"As Hermione said, I'd like to hear about where you disappeared off to the other day."

He explained as well as he could what happened, and Kingsley just sat there and listened intently.

"Each department is required to hand in annual reports of the goings on at the end of each month, so I of course know of the existence of the doors and paper bag." He said after a while. "I don't get it, really, but I know the Unspeakable's have been working on understanding them for quite some time now. In fact, these new discoveries happened right around the time the veil moved. The department head has a few ideas on how this has came to be, but it's all beyond me to be honest. Ask Hermione later about the multiverse theory, and I'm sure she'll be able to tell you about it." Kingsley now grew more serious. "You know just as much as I do that the Auror's are understaffed as it is, and almost anybody able-bodied has been sent across the country to stop Death Eater attacks, as well as surveillance of known Death Eater relatives as well. Of course, this means keeping an eye on ministry workers too, but so far we've not noticed any foul play here until Luna's death." Kingsley sighed, and the man now looked every bit his age and then some. "Go home," He said finally. "You still have a funeral to attend. But I would like for you to come back after a while. We _need_ to nip this in the bud." He looked up pleadingly at Harry now. "I'm not asking you as the minister of magic, I'm asking you as a friend, Harry. I _need_ your help on this. Britain can't afford to regress again into fear, or we might not come back from it. I know what this means to you, but please..."

"We have nobody else."

* * *

Luna's funeral was odd, yet beautiful, much like the woman herself.

Not many people showed up, but it was quality over quantity in this case anyway. All of the surviving Order members showed up including Kingsley and the Weasley's, as well as a few teachers and coworkers. Ron was deathly quiet, and the only ones to say a few words were Luna's father, Xenophilius, and her head of house from Hogwarts, his former charms professor, Flitwick. It was a somber affair, and Hermione sniffled at his side the entire time, clutching his hand in a death grip. Teddy stared on with a slight confused expression, his hair a flat and muted brown. If Ginny were here, she would have spoken too, he was sure.

She was buried in a small orchard behind her family home, and the serene beauty the place held nearly moved him to tears. He rather thought that the place was perfect for her.

When it was over, Ron stalked off despite Hermione's hoarse calls to stay. She returned to him a sobbing mess.

"He's g-g-gone! Disapparated!"

He knew this, hell, everyone at the bloody funeral probably knew this due to how loud the crack was, but he didn't bother to say it. It all reminded him too much of their days in the tent on the horcrux hunt. Harry just silently took the brunt of it all, being her rock. Tomorrow, he'd find Ron and keep him company. Sadly, he could only be in one place at a time, so tonight, he'd take care of Hermione. Besides, it was usually better to let Ron cool off when he's in a state like this. The man was mourning, but in his own way.

Which meant he was pissed off at the world.

Ron had been there for him though, so Harry would be dammed if he didn't return the favour.

With a crack of their own after quick goodbyes to everyone else, the trio returned to the Grimmauld Place. Hermione slumped down onto the couch as soon as they arrived, and so Harry helped Teddy get out of his suit and back into normal clothing. Soon enough, Harry sent his godson up to his room until supper. He sat down beside Hermione, their shoulders and knees brushed together and for a while neither spoke, suffering in silence together.

Hermione was the first to break it. "H-how," She began with a sniffle and an errant swipe at her tear filled eyes. "How do you deal with it? I mean - everyone else there was in tatters, right? But you? You're-" She abruptly stopped herself when Harry turned to face her, chapped lips and breath that still held a faint smell of alcohol. And his _eyes,_ no doubt were once emerald green and blazing now looked muted and empty. "Sorry."

He shook his head, hoping to convey the message that it was fine. 

But it wasn't, not really.

"I feel so bad for Ron," She said after a moment. "Did you see the look on his face? I'm afraid of what he might do, what _I_ might do too."

Harry cocked an eyebrow at her, "What d'you mean?"

She swallowed. "Well, it's all just _too_ much isn't it? I-I, I still miss Ginny, everyday." Fresh tears sprung up in her eyes again. "But this time, I don't know what I'll do. I-I don't think - I mean, I don't _want_ to... to-"

"End up like me." He finished, his voice cracking at the end, knowing where she was going with it.

Her eyes widened. " _No -_ Harry, that's not - I didn't - Oh _bollocks._ " His face was resolutely now turned away from her, mind racing at what she was about to imply. But she was Hermione Granger, and if Harry thought he could just childishly ignore her like that then he must have forgotten who he was dealing with. A firm hand grabbed him by the chin, and Harry was so surprised the he couldn't even offer any resistance.

"I'm sorry," She said. And Harry was caught by surprise yet again. "I was saying it without realizing what it truly meant. It was callous of me, and I'm sorry." He expected a clarification of what she was trying to say, not a full blown apology. "It just feels like we're back in the war again doesn't it?" She continued, looking a little wary at his silence and slightly wide-eyed staring. But her words washed over him and filled him with _something_. Harry didn't know exactly what yet, but it was _good_ , that certain. Because she _understood_ , and honestly, of course she did on some level. But to hear it? That was something else.

"It's ok," He said, finally speaking. His words visibly relaxed her, but she still did not let go of his chin. "I'm the good for nothing drunkard and you're the one apologizing." He said in a poor attempt at humour. 

"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "That's what you are _now_ , but not what you have to be."

He frowned, this wasn't a new discussion. "How many times have we done this dance?"

"Not enough," She stated, and she now looked deadly serious, a jarring switch from before, as Harry now felt it was a negative thing directed at _him._ "You just need a distraction, Harry! Or better yet, some actual direction other than drinking! A job of some sort, something you can actually get behind and enjoy!"

Harry scowled at her. "If you suggest for me to apply at Hogwarts again, I swear to Merlin I'll-"

"Well you can't just keep going like this!" She cried, interrupting him.

"Don't you think I know that?!" He roared, standing up and staring daggers at her.

She stood too, matching his stance and demeanour. "Then do something about it! You mean to tell me that there's absolutely _nothing_ out there that you'd like to do? At all? Not even a single job offer?"

He must have frozen, or paled, because Hermione's eyes widened again in realization.

_Shit._

"Where?" She demanded in a scarily calm voice.

"I don't-"

" _Where?_ "

This had all suddenly gone terrible, and he didn't know how to save the situation. He was so fucking _stupid_ , her words from earlier were catching up with him now, and it was beginning to become clear. "I'm sorry," He blurted out, mirroring her apology from earlier. "I should've told you, but I've been a great prat haven't I? I thought that I was alone, maybe I just didn't want help, or maybe I thought I was on my own here. But I've been such a fool," He practically blubbered. "I still have so many great things left in my life, and here I am slowly throwing it all away by drinking. I-I, I just miss her so much, miss them _all_ so much. And maybe by trying to drink myself to death I thought I'd be doing you all a favour. Such a fucking stupid, selfish prick."

Her arms wrapped around him so tightly he thought he might burst. He was sobbing, tears spilling down his face freely. His thoughts were jumbled and rushed, but one thing was clear.

For the longest time he thought his life was over, he'd lost nearly everyone. But now, in the arms of an incredible woman and friend, he realized that he still had so much to do, to experience. To live for. People still thought about it as much as he did, but Harry had been the one to crack. He felt ashamed of himself in that moment, ashamed at his sheer stupidity and blindness. He knew now what a mistake he had made. In front of him for years now was a chance to make a life for himself again, to not wallow in sadness for the memory of the fallen, but to live on in their honour. Nobody was truly over it, and that was okay, but they kept going on and making the most of their life because they wanted to, and because the dead would not want him and his friends to join them so soon.

"You're not alone," She whispered in his ear, so soft and comforting he nearly broke down again. "You never were."

_You can't stay hung up on this, not when there's so much good you could be doing._

It wouldn't be easy, nothing ever was for him, but he had such good friends, people that loved and supported him. He was too blind to see it before, but he did now with a startling clarity. Harry's life already ended once in the forest, and then again more figuratively and slowly in the years that followed. _This,_ was his last chance, and he'd make good on it.

He had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after five chapters Harry has started to kick his alcohol addiction. Rest assured though, a greater conflict awaits him. This story is all about Harry's demons, and they're not quite done with him just yet. What do you think though? Did I rush it? Does it make sense within the context of the story? I'm a novice at this so any criticism is welcome so that I can better myself in the future!


	6. Bloom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries out being "normal" for a change. As normal as his life can get, anyway.

_Could you tell me what's real anymore?_

* * *

Five days had passed since Luna's funeral.

In those five days days, Harry had spent almost the entirety of it at Grimmauld Place with Hermione and Teddy. The only times he left the house was when he visited Ron at his flat. Those visits have thus far been fruitless, as his best mate was still in a vengeful mood. No amount of talking and reassurances worked with him as they had somehow started to with Harry. He wished it'd be that easy, to bring his friend back with just his words. But Harry had never been very good at talking things out, and quite frankly, neither had Ron. All they had were each other, and Harry feared that soon even that wouldn't be enough.

He was still waiting on word from Kingsley to come in, of course, but until that time though he was kept quite busy at home. He wondered when it'd become that to him one afternoon -"home". Sirius hated this place and everything it stood for. It only made sense then, after he died, that Harry hated it too. But lately, he couldn't help but refer to it as such. He smiled idly as he watched Teddy fly around on a miniature broom. Hermione was adamant that he not use it, as the boy had picked up his mother's clumsiness, but one look at it in a store on the way home from another failed attempt to get Ron to grieve, and Harry knew that he just had to buy it. Kreacher now worked at Hogwarts, where he'd been for a long time now. Harry knew he was happier having actual people to serve, not bumbling alcoholics. Of course, Harry was technically still the elf's master, and so Kreacher felt obligated to tidy up the place every night so that it stayed in shape. Hermione didn't approve, he knew, but it was one less worry for her, so she said nothing. This still left a decent amount to do though, and as such they had spoken briefly the other night about a new wallpaper, something to make the place feel more _alive._

_"We've got to make it look like someone actually lives here, now that you're home all the time. The vomit green colouring on all the walls surely can't be_ _appealing? I'd been meaning to get to it but with work lately..."_

He had winced when she said that, but Harry supposed he deserved it.

This, was how he was spending his day. Lazily jabbing his wand at the walls, making them change colours while Teddy zipped around the house giggling like a madman.

_Hot pink with stripes? Eugh, definitely not._

_Deep purple with stars and constellations? Not bad, but I'm not exactly feeling it, and Hermione abhors the colour._

_Red with Gryffindor designs? A little too cliche._

Something was absurdly hilarious about this, he was sure, and Harry was privately glad that George wasn't here on one of his spontaneous visits, for he would surely take the mick out of him for fretting over the wallpaper. Admittedly, to think that a week ago he would be drinking at this time _was_ pretty crazy. In the time since the funeral, Harry had carefully strayed away from any alcohol whatsoever. It was on the second day when Hermione had found him shivering from withdrawal that he'd had a drink.

_"Going cold turkey was very risky Harry, you should have talked to me! Let's start right away with a plan and schedule. Perhaps only having a drink once every other day? Or maybe once a day is fine if it's limited to something like Butterbeer that has a very low alcohol level?"_

Hermione dotting on him would normally be annoying, but now with a clearer mind, he found it rather sweet... Well, it was better than her yelling at him, he thought as his cheeks flushed. Not that he didn't deserve it or anything.

Harry was seriously considering making the walls a sea blue and just leaving it like that when a loud crash from upstairs made him jump.

* * *

"It hurts." Teddy whimpered, clutching his bloodied hand.

Broken china was on the floor nearby, as Harry worked over the boy's leg. Somehow, he'd manage to crash on that deceivingly fast toy broom of his.

"I know it does," Harry murmured. "But it'll stop soon enough."

Teddy had that look in his eyes, a look Harry knew all too well. Like he was made of gold or that he was some impressive figure. Like he could do no wrong. He'd seen it on many other faces too. It was a look that said 'Harry Potter is a hero'. 

Ask anybody in magical Britain what their opinion on the Chosen One is, and it's usually something like that. Harry hears it all the time, and its always been tiring. Before, he always got flustered under such praise. Now, he would just roll his eyes. Lately, it was hard to feel like much of a hero. There had been many others who should have gotten just as much recognition as he did.

Besides, Teddy was a bit fickle, like most children are in their beliefs. Changing their minds at alarming speeds and always find some new obsession. Barely two weeks ago, Teddy was unknowingly hitting Harry with an excessive amount of emotional gut punches, and now it was as if he was a whole new person in the eyes of his godson. Merlin, it wasn't like he was out drinking all the time to the point where Teddy never saw him was it?

Was it?

Shaking those dark and scary thoughts away, he focused back on the task at hand. Harry would surely be in for a talk later once Hermione got home, and he knew now there was no point to try and keep this away from her. She always found out.

"There," He said brightly after another moment. "Good as new!"

Teddy's toothy grin warmed his heart. "Thanks da!"

"Teddy," He warned. This has happen before. He knew that it was because Teddy had never met his parents, that it was only natural he'd refer to Harry as his father. He did it to Hermione on occasion too, and on those occasions she looked so delightfully flustered, even if she admonished him afterwards. It only came out on accident now, but still... Teddy should be reminded of how heroic his _real_ parents were. He needed a better role model than what he had in Harry.

The boy's expression immediately faltered. "Sorry." He mumbled.

There was a long silence.

"Don't worry about it kiddo," Harry said. "How about we pop over to Fortescue's for some ice cream?"

His godson's eyes widened comically. "Really?" He said, as if he could hardly believe his luck.

"Really." Harry confirmed.

In that moment, seeing the look on Teddy's face, well, for the first time in his life he had to admit. 

He felt like a hero.

* * *

Hermione Granger sped around her office, attempting to tidy up before calling in an early day. She'd been doing that a lot recently, what with Harry being home a lot more now. It was that old need to look after him and make sure he didn't get into any trouble that still carried on from their school days.

"Early day, Miss Granger?"

She smiled at the young man who poked his head inside. "Yes Dennis, I'm still waiting on a response from Bálor about those forms on the statements from those three house elves that defected from their master's."

Dennis Creevey snorted as he stepped further into the room, "Knowing him, that won't be for another month, Bálor's always been a bit languorous with these kind of things."

Hermione gave him a polite smile, privately agreeing but not wanting to speak ill about another employee.

Dennis worked in her department as well, effectively serving as her second in command. He was nice, if a bit excitable, and had still stayed relatively short in his adult years. Though, he was rather handsome.

His smile now became a nervous one. "So, er, listen, Hermione. I've got tickets to this interesting looking muggle exhibit, apparently they've discovered footprints from around three-hundred and fifty thousand years ago, which suggests upright walking mammals even back then! It's being talked about and shown off soon and I er, got tickets for it."

She'd known about Dennis' crush for awhile, even going out to dinner with him once before, much to Ron's chagrin and Harry's confused frown. It'd been nice, but nothing she really wanted to pursue.

"I'm sorry, Dennis, really." She said, looking at him in the eyes. "I'm flattered, but I'm just not interested."

His jaw worked itself for a moment, and his eyes dropped down to the floor. 

"I understand." He said with a sad smile, and Hermione got the impression that he truly did.

She made to leave, not really knowing what else to do as it began to get awkward.

"Still hung up on Harry then, eh?"

His parting words made her freeze, and he took this for confirmation.

"How he doesn't see what's right in front of him, I'll never know." Dennis continued. 

Hermione didn't dare turn around.

"He's an idiot." Dennis stated bluntly.

She found it hard to disagree. But then again, pining after your best friend for almost a decade wasn't exactly smart either.

* * *

"What's all this?"

Harry and Teddy gaped at her with wide eyes from their spot on the couch. A stupid guffaw tumbled out of her at the silliness of the situation. Both of the boys sat there with bits of vanilla ice cream around their mouths, and melting cones in their hands. The two looked like kids caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

After a moment, the boys joined in too. No doubt realizing they weren't in any sort of trouble.

"So," She began rather cheerfully. "How was your day?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at her. "It was fine, but do you mean to tell me that you didn't notice the new wallpaper? I slaved away all day on that 'Mione, I'm hurt."

For a split second, Hermione Granger totally believed him. But then, she realized that this was Harry Potter, and that he was totally taking the piss.

"You're terrible." She told him, as Teddy's eyes flicked back and forth between the two bantering adults. "It's nice." She said. "The wallpaper, I mean."

She _really_ liked it, the emerald green wavy design. But Hermione didn't dare say that out loud.

Dinner was nice, Harry attempted to cook again after being out of practice for so long. The roast beef they had was more than filling. Afterwards they relaxed in the living room, the quiet of the night only interrupted with aimless conversation.

"I think I'm going to be promoted soon." She told him as they watched television. Teddy was nearby on the floor, a concentrated look on his face as he scribbled away on a colouring book.

Harry choked a little on his soda. "That's brilliant Hermione!" He said enthusiastically.

She nodded, allowing herself to truly soak in the achievement. "McCoy's on his way out too, something about wanting to take an early retirement to spend time with his grandchildren." She paused for a moment before continuing. "He said I inspired him."

Harry didn't look surprised. "Hard not to be."

Hermione could _feel_ herself blush. "I don't know if I should take it."

"Well why the bloody hell not?" He asked loudly.

"Language!" She chided immediately. "You must know that if I take this job I will be around even less now."

This was true. Somedays, Hermione skipped breakfast entirely and worked until only the cleaners were left at the Ministry.

"I know that," He responded, shifting awkwardly on the couch and looking away. "But I also know how badly you want to make a difference." He then smiled at her a little. "You used to go on about my 'saving people thing', when really, it's you who wants to make life better for everyone in wizarding Britain. You're much more a hero than I ever was."

Ooooh he had absolutely _no_ idea how maddeningly sweet he was being!

"Well, I'm not too sure about being a 'hero', but you may have _some_ semblance of a point." She mumbled.

Harry just snickered. "I almost feel sorry for the poor pure-blooded bureaucrat that tries to challenge a new policy you want to push. They won't even know what hit them." At Hermione's somewhat sour expression, Harry laughed a little harder. "You have to admit, you can be incredibly pushy and annoying without even noticing. Remember the Prince's book? Or the Firebolt in third year?" He pointedly ignored Hermione's exasperated ("I was partially right about both of those!") "Or how you always got on me about studying and finishing my homework only to do it in the end for me most of the time? Your idea of fun was spending a good two hours in the library!"

If it wasn't for the glowing grin on Harry's face, she might have been hurt. But it was clear to her that this was him reminiscing, not making fun of her cruelly.

"But you _cared._ " He continued. "That meant everything. You care now too, even when most people would give up. And _that's_ why you should accept the promotion."

Well, what could she even say to that? Hermione didn't know, so she hugged him instead of speaking.

* * *

It wasn't all well though, the chance of a relapse was worryingly high, especially for Harry, someone who could sometimes act rashly. These chances only went up when going cold turkey was factored in. Then again, offering alcohol too much again could cause a relapse too. He had her to fall back on though, and she thought that this might be a fair exception.

That's why when Hermione had wandered downstairs in the wee hours of the morning after she heard Harry talking in a hushed tone, she wordlessly poured a small glass of butterbeer.

He didn't notice her, but he stopped speaking when she stepped on the landing near the kitchen.

"I'm sorry." He told the drawers, and Hermione got the feeling that the apology wasn't for her.

He downed the drink in one go anyway, before turning his head to face her with teary eyes.

* * *

Some days were better than others. Harry could get by without even thinking about the ones lost, and then something simple like a ornate looking dresser would remind him of the time that Fred had levitated it and shaken its contents over Ron's head over a particularly rude comment one night during the summer before his fifth year.

Thoughts about those days came less and less, which Harry felt a strange mix of relief and guilt over. Relief due to not having to bear the emotional weight of such memories, and guilt over seemingly forgetting them. He'd tell himself to get a grip, that he wasn't forgetting, he never could. This is what healing was.

Hermione helped a lot, and he'd be eternally grateful for this anchor in his life. Her and Teddy were a wonderful part of him now that he was just beginning to fully appreciate. Of course, Harry felt a twinge of sadness whenever he thought about not speaking to David lately, but he resolved that perhaps a dinner (without alcohol) was in order, he'd have to get in touch soon.

Luna's death still hung over them, and further attempts to speak to Ron did not bring any immediately positive results, though there was a promise to go out with George soon to London for a night.

True to his word, Kingsley soon sent a letter with a time to come in so that an official investigation could begin. He was nervous about it, but encouraging words from Hermione were able to at least get him ready for the day that came all too soon.

The day that Harry Potter formally and properly returned to the wizarding world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a slow chapter. Really it's meant to show us and Harry what he's been missing. Cue uncomfortable dad Harry, some hurt and comfort, and just general fluff!


	7. The End Has No End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First things first, sorry for the long wait! School, mental health, and general laziness got in the way of me updating this fic.

_The right thing...what is it? I wonder...if you do the right thing...does it make...everybody...happy?_

* * *

"You can't hide from me, Potter!"

He was fucked, he was so hilariously fucked.

" _Bombarda!_ " An earth shaking explosion from his left nearly made him stumble out of his cover. "Awwwww, c'mon! I promise I'll make it _quick._ "

_Not bloody likely_ he thought darkly.

Another explosion to his right, and Harry prepared himself to return fire. He couldn't see Tracey from where he was hidden, he could only hope that she was still alive.

With one more mental push, Harry leaped out around his cover.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

It was swiped away with a cackle. "Got to do better than that, Potter! You're positively pathetic!"

He knew the man was right, it'd been far too long since he used his wand for anything other refilling a glass. Having to duel so suddenly? Forget about it. He was so out of his depth that it was almost comedic. 

Harry racked his brain for a spell, one that would surely catch his opponent by surprise. A memory came to him then, one from so long ago it hardly felt real at all.

_Dumbledore set down his empty glass and drew himself up in his seat, the tips of his fingers together in a very characteristic gesture._

_"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight, surrounded by henchmen, to request a job we both know you do not want?"_

_Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary Dumbledore, I want it very much."_

_"Oh you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you wanted to when you were eighteen. What is it that you’re after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"_

_Voldemort sneered. "If you do not want to give me a job –"_

_"Of course I don’t," Dumbledore said. "And I don’t think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."_

_Voldemort stood up. He looked less like Tom Riddle than ever, his features thick with rage. "This is your final word?"_

_"It is," Dumbledore said, also standing._

_"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."_

_"No, nothing," Dumbledore said, and a great sadness filled his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom…I wish I could…"_

_For a second, Harry was on the verge of shouting a pointless warning; He was sure that Voldemort’s hand has twitched toward his pocket and his wand; but then the moment had passed, Voldemort had turned away, the door was closing, and he was gone._

_Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand close over his arm again and moments later, they were standing together on almost the same spot, but there was no snow building on the window ledge, and Dumbledore’s hand was blackened and dead-looking once more._

_"Why?" Harry said at once, looking up into Dumbledore’s face. "Why did he come back? Did you ever find out?"_

_"I have ideas," Dumbledore said, "but no more than that."_

_"What ideas, sir?"_

_"I shall tell you, Harry when you have retrieved that memory from Professor Slughorn," said Dumbledore. "When you have that last piece of the jigsaw, everything will, I hope, be clear…to both of us. But first, I have something that I feel I should have given you from our first lesson." He reached into a pocket of his robe with his undamaged hand, and pulled out a thin blue book. "In this book is a collection of notes I've made over the years. While I pride myself on my excellent memory," He then smiled with humour in his eyes. "I am not exactly getting younger." He pressed the notebook into Harry's hands._

_Harry was still burning with curiosity and even though Dumbledore had walked to the door and was holding it open for him, he did not move at once._

_"Why was he after the Defence Against the Dark Arts job again, sir? He didn’t say…"_

_"Oh, he definitely wanted the Defence Against the Dark Arts job," said Dumbledore. "The aftermath of our little meeting proved that. You see, we have never been able to keep a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher for longer than a year since I refused the position to Lord Voldemort."_

That notebook had helped Harry survive more than the old man could've ever known, and so with only the smallest hesitation, he jabbed his wand into the general direction of his opponent and shouted.

" _Fulminis!_ "

The bolt of lightening shook the room far more than the explosions did.

* * *

_**Two hours earlier** _

"Ah, there you are Mister Potter."

Harry nodded politely. From his last meeting with the Head Auror, he felt that they parted on bad terms.

Tiberius Davis looked at him pointedly from his seat. "I hear my daughter's been able to finally convince you to accept our request."

Tracey, ever present in the corner of her father's office, spoke up too. "Wasn't just me, and besides, its been a long time coming."

He had the decency not to look down or flush. "It has." He agreed simply. "A lot of my close friends have given me a push in the right direction, I don't even want to think about what might've happened if I had stayed gone."

The older man looked oddly happy at this. "Well, good. I was afraid she had threatened you into it. Ah the amount of boys I've seen her sent running for the hills."

"D-dad!"

"Alright, alright." He said with a soft smile. It was quickly replaced by a businesslike look. "Truly though, I am glad you're here. We all are. Straight to it now, we'll get you sorted out with a temporary visitor's badge, but soon enough we'll have a proper position for you." At Harry's nod he continued. "No doubt Kingsley's already spoken to you, so there's no real need for me to keep you much longer. You and Tracey will enter the Department of Mysteries, where an Unspeakable will be waiting there to accompany you and answers any questions that pertain to the case." Tiberius sighed, before leaning back into his chair. "No suspects currently, but feel free to ask Theodore Nott, he's the head of the department, and thus looks over the punch-in clock. We've already spoken to him but at least you'll have your options open."

Harry thought about Nott, and how the man was eager to speak to him after he had escaped from the room of doors. He remembered the boy being reserved in school, never one to join in on Malfoy's taunts, though he certainly never stepped in to stop it either.

"Of course, after the war, we needed an almost entirely knew batch of Unspeakable's. Many were killed by Voldemort and his followers, which is why Nott rose to the top as fast as he did." Tiberius went on. Tracey coughed something that sounded suspiciously like "slimy git" and Tiberius gave his daughter an admonishing glare, but Harry swore he could see the corner of his mouth slightly upturned in a small grin. "Yes, well, personal opinions of the man aside, he'll be your best help in this."

Harry watched in growing amusement when Tracey rolled her eyes at the statement.

"I believe that's all for now, when you're done for the day report back here."

It was a dismissal if Harry had ever heard one, so with Tracey leading the way, they went over to the Department of Mysteries. She was wringing her hands together as she went. Opening her mouth and then closing it. This continued for sometime until she apparently finally found her nerve.

"My dad likes to joke, y'know." She mumbled as they walked. "I don't _scare_ boys off, they've just almost always been pricks."

He chuckled dryly. "I'm sure."

Tracey glared at him a little, but said nothing else for the rest of the way there. At the entrance, Harry noticed that the door he once found himself escaping from was cordoned off. Tracey sighed.

"Speaking of pricks."

Harry followed her line of sight and had to smother a grin when he saw Theodore Nott approach them.

"Potter, Davis." He said curtly. "I'll be escorting you throughout the department today. Shall we?" They followed without word, going through a separate hallway that wrapped around a corner. "The door's been cutoff from ministry staff, as you no doubt saw. We'll have to use a different entrance.The way its magic works is quite fascinating, really."

"Potentially dangerous too." Tracey muttered.

Nott just smiled sardonically. "As are most things in our world, Davis."

The tense atmosphere in the back and forth between the two was quickly making Harry uncomfortable. Nevertheless, before he could even speak up to diffuse the brewing argument, both parties suddenly dropped it.

They walked in silence for a while longer; turning corners at seemingly random. Before long though, Nott spoke again.

"The bag's moved." He said, and Harry knew that he was speaking to him now. "We haven't found it yet but..." He trailed off.

"What bag?" Tracey asked, looking between the two men.

Harry spoke first. "It was with me when I was trapped here." He said. "It... talked, to me."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"It told me that the gap in the door led to a separate reality, whatever that means." He explained. "And I'm almost inclined to believe it, considering one of the doors in the room was ajar."

"Doors?"

Right, he _hadn't_ told her the full story about his little escapade.

"I'll explain later, just know that there's a paranormal brown paper bag somewhere in the department of mysteries."

The news of that just made her frown but say nothing more.

"Those doors aren't the proper entrance into the department of course, but just something that formed there randomly. We've moved the proper one since the war though, just to be safe." Nott said. "We're here."

Sure enough, they were now at an inconspicuous looking broom closet door at the end of a hallway. A chill ran through him involuntary at the sight. Nott opened the door, and Harry frowned.

"A broom closet?"

The pale man smirked. "Just watch." And then he entered and gestured for them to do the same.

Harry and Tracey shared a look, but only after a moment's hesitation they both followed suit. It was dark and cramped. Nott stayed to one side as much as he could, and Tracey clearly didn't want to be so close to the boy, so she sidled up next to Harry.

" _Lumos._ " He muttered, wand taken out of his robe and at his side. He could now at least see Tracey.

She winked and waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry put out the light.

Tracey laughed.

The broom closet whirred ominously and all of a sudden it was moving downwards much like a muggle elevator. Tracey let out a startled gasp, and even Harry grabbed out at the wall on instinct. They went down for quite a while, before finally the broom closet stopped. Harry and Tracey stepped out warily after Nott, who looked far too at ease with it all. 

"A little inconvenient, don't you think?" Harry asked, and beside him, Tracey nodded.

"Perhaps," Nott admitted with a small, humourless smile. "But nobody would ever think to check there for the entrance to our department."

And so room after room they went, working their way to the antechamber. The department had _expanded_ during the war, no longer were there just a few specific chambers, but whole other rooms that were tacked on in the front that defied space entirely. Rooms that shouldn't have the space to be there now were plentiful. Just thinking about it made Harry's head hurt, but, he thought with a smile worming its way onto his face, Hermione would certainly have a field day here.

What had Kingsley told him to ask her about? The multiverse theory? He had no idea what that was, but still somehow doubted that's what was going on here in the new expansion of the department.

There was a man with soot all over his robes fiddling with a large golden gauntlet, holes were in each knuckle and in the middle as well. A woman across from the man was working over a bench with an assortment of lime green crystals. A tap of her wand, and one of them turned blue, then red, and then pink.

"Bloody hell." Tracey murmured from his right. Nott was still briskly walking ahead to the next door.

A loud explosion went off, stopping everyone in their tracks. A bald man jolted back up to his feet from the floor.

"I'm alright!" He said with an excited grin. Behind him was a brown box with intricate red glowing patterns all over it. Harry spared him a wary glance before going through the next door with Nott, Tracey following closely behind.

The next room was much more tame, with several Unspeakable's at desks scribbling away at parchment. One of them looked up at the trio as they entered. He had silver hair and a very serious expression.

"Nott." He grunted in greeting.

"Lockley." Nott said with a small incline of his head.

Harry spotted Blaise Zabini sitting in his own cubicle in the corner of the room. He didn't look up from his work at all though.

The third room they entered, was less of a room and more of a hallway. The walls weren't walls, they were more cages than anything. What Harry _hoped_ was reinforced glass was the only thing protecting them for the creatures that lurked behind it.

"Everyday we find new species' that come through the veil." Nott said offhandedly.

Harry did a double take. "These things came through the _veil_?" He asked incredulously. 

"You mean you don't know?" Nott sneered, and Harry's dislike for the man increased a hundred fold. "The veil does not act as an agent of death, but a portal to another dimension. At least, this has been our recent hypothesis." He said as they passed by a vile looking man leering at them from his glass prison in the wall. He wore a red and green flannel with a brown hat. " _Something_ has changed with it, clearly, and as a department we must now revaluate what the veil really is."

A loud thump against the glass to his right made him and Tracey jump, the latter having her wand out immediately. A giant red and angry looking beast of a man glared at them from behind it, his only source of clothing being a large pair of baggy black cargo shorts.

Needless to say, Harry was very happy to move on to the next room. This one was more familiar, at least, though still not providing any comfort at all. It was the antechamber he and his friends had found themselves in back in his fifth year.

Nott looked around with his wand out for a moment as the doorways spun. When they stopped, he motioned to a door to the far left and tucked his wand back into his robes. "This way." He said.

The large ornate door opened for them without issue, and the three of them walked through.

Harry frowned at the sight that greeted them. He knew that Kingsley had said that the veil had moved, but he didn't imagine in to be like this. On the arch, there was no obsidian portal with a black curtain flapping slowly. He heard nothing at all either, no whispers like last time.

"The body was found over there." Nott said emotionlessly, pointing over to a spot in the corner just ahead and to the left of the door. Tucked in that corner, was a small desk and chair. "We've had this here since the veil moved, just to have someone run some readings, you know - tests." He explained. "And to note if any more changes occurred."

"And Luna had been assigned there?" Tracey asked, walking over to the desk.

"No," Nott said slowly. "But she was the only one signed out for the overtime, there was nobody else here."

"Unless someone conveniently forgot to." She muttered.

"They wouldn't," The pale man said, high cheekbones framing his face in a scowl as his eyebrows furrowed. "The Ministry is very strict about these things now."

Harry gaped at Nott in barely contained shock and anger. "Luna Lovegood just dropped dead then, did she?"

There was no answer given to that.

He and Tracey then walked around, while Nott stood awkwardly by the door, looking bored.

"I still don't understand how it could have moved." Tracey murmured. Harry nodded his agreement. "Is it weird? Being back here - I mean. It can't be fun, knowing what you did in fifth year. Actually, forget I said that please, _really_ really insensitive of me to ask." She said in a rush, becoming redder and redder the longer she spoke.

Despite the situation, Harry cracked a small smile. "Insert foot in mouth, yeah?"

She swallowed back further apologies and nodded. "Yeah." Tracey then clapped her hands together, suddenly becoming more serious. "So, let's get our facts straight. We know Luna Lovegood died close to the entrance."

Harry glanced warily over to Nott, who found something on his nail particularly interesting at the moment. He had the distinct feeling that the man could hear every word of their conversation.

"Nott say's nobody else signed in for the overtime, but it's obvious that's not the case." She continued, getting closer this time to whisper. Harry felt her breath tickle his ear. "You ask me, we should look this entire place over. I'm not sure what we'll find, if we find anything at _all,_ but we should at least make an attempt."

He found himself readily agreeing, and so they split up. Harry staying on the entrance side of the chamber, while Tracey went to the opposite end.

But after what was perhaps only a few minutes, maybe even less, Harry found himself with nothing to go on. Nott was becoming impatient, and every time Harry glanced over to Tracey she had a grimace on her face. He had checked the desk and looked around the area nearby, but that was about it. The disappointment he felt when a bland wooden finish greeted him as he pulled the handle towards him only to reveal an empty drawer was immeasurable. 

" _Specialis Revelio._ " Harry murmured softly, wand pointing out in front of him.

He tried not to curse when nothing happened. 

"Are you quite done staring a hole into the desk, Potter?" An annoyed voice called from his right, it appeared that Nott had finally had enough. "Or do you think it'll do a few backflips eventually?"

Harry barely spared him a glance. Thought the temptation to tell the man where he could stick his complaints nearly won out. Nott scowled at him and stalked off when he continued casting in spite of him. He was running out of ideas quickly though, and one of the only spells he could think of for revealing was left. His hopes weren't exactly high.

_"Homenum Revelio."_

Magic was a wonderful thing, and Harry's suppression of it during his childhood meant that when he was introduced to even the simplest of things, he was amazed. It was an amazing feeling, to have your breath taken away at the marvellous sights before you. The magically enlarged tent from his trip to the Quidditch world cup during his forth year sprang to mind. He hadn't felt that way about magic in _years._

This wasn't like that at all. He sorely wished it was.

The revealing spell showed a form tucked away in the drawer of the desk. Unmoving. The spell was supposed to pick up life forms, more attuned to humans than anything else really, but living things in general too. It didn't give an outline or general shape of what was being detected, just a little pulse and a swooping sensation that the castor could feel. 

Slowly, not believing what he saw to be true, Harry reached a shaky hand out to the handle of the drawer, and pulled it open.

There was a paper bag, the top of it unfurling out into the newfound space above it. The bottom was wet with an unidentifiable liquid.

"Little hero, little pawn." It murmured in an eerily garbled voice. "You've avoided the gap, but not for long." 

Harry quickly glanced at Nott, he hadn't heard what the bag had said.

"Liars are not long for this world," It continued. "Sixty-six X, seventy-one Y, one-hundred and thirty-three Z."

He didn't understand at all, and the bag's next words didn't clear anything up either.

"The blood will show you the way."

"What does that even mean?" He asked aloud. Not even sure anymore to whom he was talking to. And then a sudden idea came to him. They weren't just random numbers and letters, he'd seen something similar to this on the Marauder's Map in the top left corner, always changing depending on where he was. He laid his wand flat on the palm of his now open hand. 

" _Point me._ " He whispered, coordinates firmly in his mind. And so it did. His wand spun before the tip of it pointed towards a random section of wall in the chamber.

Barely believing it, Harry tried not to _run_ to the spot. The closer he got, the more Harry thought he was just going crazy. There was nothing there at all that he could see. He looked over to Tracey again, noticing she was on top of the arch.

And then he tripped. He didn't face-plant, thank _Merlin_ , but his foot caught something solid all the same.

"Potter? Are you alright?" Nott called out, looking at him wearily from the entrance. A red smear just above his lip.

"Y-yeah," Harry stuttered out, heart beating so incredibly fast he thought it was going to explode. "Your nose," He said, pointing at it from afar. "It's bleeding."

_The blood will show you the way_

He was now looking at Nott in a new light. Harry knew it was so sudden, but what else explained his insistence that nobody had skipped out on signing the overtime sheet? Nott took out his wand to siphon off the blood, and Harry used the split second to reach down with his hand. It met a silky smooth cloth that he immediately recognized. Harry yanked it off.

The face of Theodore Nott greeted him, his body on the ground. Dead. For days, it looked like.

" _Avada-_ "

Harry dove to his right, landing painfully on the cold floor. Another spell fired off, but not at him. When he shot back up to run off, he saw Tracey lying on the stairs, a concerning amount of blood pooling around her head. But she was still _breathing._ He looked at Nott- _whoever it really was_ and saw them grinning madly. More green spells shot at him, all narrowly missing. He was breathing hard, his heart in his throat. It'd been too long, but he now felt like he was thrown back into the thick of it. Transported back to the war.

* * *

_**Now** _

Tiberius Davis was in a hurry.

He had been in his office when he heard what sounded like an explosion from below him. Felt like one too, all the paperwork and trinkets on his desk and in his office in general flew all over the place when the ground shook. Now he was running for the department of mysteries, two of his Auror's - the only one's not on active duty at the moment - following right behind him. He had found one Unspeakable running down a hallway, and so he followed.

"Sir," One of his men said. "What could have caused that?"

"Nothing good." He replied gruffly.

"I see that you've made it here as well, Tiberius." The deep voice of the Minister called out as he reached the end of the hallway. The Unspeakable he had followed was furiously tapping his wand on the side of an empty doorway.

He wasn't in the most patient mood, so he just nodded at Kingsley. 

"Can't you do it _faster_?" A shrill voice said from behind the Minister. When Kingsley stood aside, Tiberius saw a downright scary looking Hermione Granger glaring impatiently at the poor Unspeakable. He hadn't seen her before, but she looked downright terrifying at the moment. If looks could kill, the man would be a puddle of blood on the ground right now.

"No," The Unspeakable said, and Tiberius was impressed with his bravery to look her in the eye's. "I can't. It goes all the way down to the lowest level of the Ministry."

Granger looked like she wanted to snap at him some more, but thought better of it. She walked away with a huff, crossing her arms and still staring at the empty doorway as if that would make it go faster.

Eventually, it did come. He, the Unspeakable, Granger, and Kingsley stepped inside. It was a tight fit, but nobody commented on it as they descended.

When they exited, the first few rooms were deserted. Whatever trinkets they worked on down here were left behind and forgotten for the moment.

Granger practically led the charge, easily keeping a determined stride with the Unspeakable. Tiberius tried not to let what he saw bother him. The sight of creatures glaring daggers at the group was an easy and familiar thing to ignore, but the eerie ante-chamber they entered unsettled him.

The lack of people in the previous rooms made sense now. With some force, and no small amount of help from Granger being absolutely _terrifying,_ they were able to part the crowd of Unspeakable's that had blocked one of the chamber doors.

Harry Potter was at a woman's side, and when Tiberius recognized it to be the body of his own daughter, he felt his heart up in his throat. The other man cradled her head in his lap, hands pushing at a spot on her head. Close by was the body of Theodore Nott, knocked out and literally _smoking._

The man they used to call "the chosen one" looked up at them, his eyes showing years of pain and fighting that contrasted with his age. He looked _dead_ on the inside.

"He's back." Potter mumbled, raising a shaking hand to point at Nott's body.

Nott's left sleeve was yanked up, and on it, was the Dark Mark. As black as it had been at the height of Voldemort's reign of terror.

"He's back." He grunted out again.

Broken.

Defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Borrowed Fulminis from The Merging by Shaydrall. Highly recommend you check that out.


	8. Condemned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “The truth is rarely pure and never simple.”

_You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?_

* * *

His head hurt. An odd sensation settled there, not quite stabbing pain, but still.

It was too close of a sensation to his scar hurting. But that hadn't hurt him in three whole years.

Harry glanced over at the woman in front of him. They were in some spare unused interrogation room.

"Your tenseness is making my headache worse." He joked half-heartedly.

Hermione glared at him. "You almost _died. Again._ "

"Par for the course, really." He said with a shrug, purposefully avoiding her eyes. It didn't work, not really.

In all honesty, it never did.

For a moment, Harry thought that she would yell at him. Instead, Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. He'd prefer being yelled at.

"Oh Merlin, Hermione. I'm _sorry_." He said, getting up from his seat across from her. In no time at all, he engulfed her in a comforting hug. "It's not like I want to get into deadly situations, you know."

"I know." She sniffed, voice muffled due to her face being buried in his chest. "You think I'd be used to it by now, but after the war I've mostly been worried about what you were doing to yourself."

Ouch. He probably deserved that in all fairness.

The door opened, and Tracey walked in. Hermione jolted away from him slightly, and so Harry let go. She eyed them for a moment before speaking.

"We just need your statement, Mr. Potter, and then you can be on your way." Harry frowned at the professionalism in her tone.

"Should you even be on your feet?" He asked her.

The facade faltered slightly when she smiled softly, blue eyes shimmering slightly. "I'm fine." She said dismissively. "I took a potion for to replenish the blood, and one for my concussion too. Nott - _whoever it is,_ is currently in lockup. We're waiting on the veriteserum to be delivered." 

An idea came to him. "Can I be there for the questioning?"

Tracey looked as if she were about to speak, her mouth opening before closing again. Her hand raised to scratch the back of her neck. "I suppose so, technically you're allowed." Tracey's eyes flicked over to Hermione, who was standing beside him. "I'm not too sure about Granger here though."

Immediately, his expression hardened.

"Wherever I go, she goes." He said, unconsciously grasping at Hermione's arm.

"Harry, I-"

"She bloody well defeated Voldemort too, she deserves to be there as much as me." He continued, cutting her off.

Tracey's eyes widened in alarm, and she raised her hands up in surrender. "Harry, I'm sorry, I was just saying," She defended herself, professionalism gone now. "She technically doesn't have the clearance, but no, you're right." Tracey went on, cutting off any objection he was about to make. "She can come, let's just go now."

And so they did. Harry was still resolutely pulling Hermione along by the arm. Tracey led the way.

"Bloody hell," the Auror mumbled, turning her head to look back at them as they walked. "If anybody says anything there, I'll just let _you_ do all the glaring. Scary, you are."

He was assuaged at that. "Good." Harry grunted out, smirking slightly at her words and at how pleased Hermione was trying not to look.

* * *

When they arrived, it was to an annoyed looking Auror that stood at least a foot taller than he himself with dark skin, a stocky build, and neatly trimmed beard.

"He said anything, Proudfoot?" Tracey asked, flicking her wand at the door as it closed, the lock clicked.

The Auror - Proudfoot, shook his head with a scowl. "Not a bloody thing. Just sits there with that shit eating smirk." His frown deepened. "Wish he'd try something, like to wipe it right off him."

Tracey gives him a pat on the shoulder. "Don't let it bother you too much, just means more paperwork anyway."

He scoffs at that. "Yeah, you're right." Proudfoot looks over at Harry and Hermione. He nods at the former, before raising an eyebrow at the latter. Surprisingly, he doesn't say anything about it. "Veriteserum should be here any moment now."

And just like that, there's a knock at the door. Tracey waves her wand at it, and it unlocks. A short man with a balding head walks in, glasses slightly askew on his face. holding up a vial. "Took and arm and a leg to get this on such short notice." He grunted, his voice reminding Harry of his former Charms professor. "The Minister will be along in a moment." Like Proudfoot, this man too looked at both Harry and Hermione. Also like his colleague, he said nothing about it.

"Thanks Tom." Tracey said with a smile.

Tom nodded, before warily glancing at the chained up Nott on the other side of the glass. The room looked much like the one's in the muggle world, with one side of it having access to the rest of the ministry, and the other being behind a large pane of glass that Harry assumed was oneway. Fake-Nott, or whoever they were, was behind this window. The impersonator looked straight into it, and Harry repressed a shudder as he realized that the person was staring directly at _him._

Before he could comment on it, Kingsley showed up too. The minister had a look of grim determination on his face.

"Let's get this done."

Proudfoot, who's had his wand held aloft this entire time, taps an intricate pattern on the glass. For a few short moments, the entire _room_ shakes slightly, and then the glass and the wall attached underneath it split apart. Kingsley steps in without a word, Tracey and Proudfoot follow. Seconds later, the split apart wall connects back together.

Nott is chained up to a uncomfortable looking metallic chair, his arms spread eagle to the side. To Harry's surprise, Nott doesn't resist when Proudfoot forces his head back and mouth open to drink the vial of truth serum.

A beat, and then Harry can just barely see Nott's eyes go blank. The smile, however, still remains on his face.

"State your name." Proudfoot demands.

The answer comes immediately, "Theodore Nott."

Kingsley, Tracey, and Proudfoot stare at each other in various degrees of disbelief. Harry looks at Hermione as well in surprise.

"Did we give him too low of a dosage?" Tracey asks, confusion evident in her voice.

Harry knows the answer before it's given, and Hermione speaks at the same time as Proudfoot.

"Impossible."

Kingsley speaks next, "Not entirely, resisting veriteserum is not unheard of."

Tom, the short Auror from before, who had remained in the other side of the room with Harry and Hermione shook his head. "I brought down one of our strongest vials of it, nothing short of a wizard like Merlin could resist something like that."

"Is it possible that he's telling the truth then?" Harry asks the man, still looking through the glass.

"I don't know how, but he must be."

Now, Harry turns around, but not to face Tom.

"Hermione?"

Her eyes don't immediately flicker over to him, but when they do it's something that Harry's never seen before on her face.

"I-.. I don't know."

"Great."

The conversation beyond the glass continues.

"Did you kill Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because she saw me kill someone else."

"Who?"

The smile grows even wider.

"Theodore Nott."

"Oh this is a crock of shit! Let's just chuck him into Azkaban and call it a day."

"Silence, Proudfoot!" Shouts Kingsley in his deep baritone voice. "You killed Theodore Nott?" He then directs at the restrained man. "How?"

"I pointed my wand at him and then-"

"Forget it, _why_ did you kill him?"

Nott's face twitches for a split second, and then he speaks. "To replace him."

"For what purpose?"

"To infiltrate the ministry."

"And how are you Theodore Nott if you killed him already?"

"I'm from another world."

Silence greeted this revelation. Complete stunned silence.

"And on-" Kingsley began, before swallowing harshly. "On whose order's did you infiltrate the ministry?"

Nott's eyes no longer were blank, but Harry still believed he was under the influence of the truth potion. They looked _alive,_ dancing with glee almost.

Hermione's hand found his own. It did nothing to comfort him for what came next.

"The Dark Lord's."

* * *

Draco Malfoy sat at his desk in his office at the department of international magical co-operation. His eyes lazily glanced over the files in front of him.

There was a knock at the door, and his superior lets herself in.

"Draco, do you have that first draft of our deal with Canada for me?"

Susan Bones was someone he never expected to work with when he got saddled with this position. Everyone believed she'd follow in her aunt's path and join the DMLE, to say skyrocketing to the top of the DIMC was a surprise to everyone was an understatement. Working here was a part of his parole though, so there wasn't really a way around it. Still, being a secretary was hardly the worst thing for a former Death Eater. Draco liked to consider himself lucky.

"Yeah, got it right here." He said, hand already moving for where he knew the file was. "Had a feeling you'd forget to grab it yesterday.

She blushes quite prettily at that, and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Thank you, Draco." Susan takes the file from him.

He smiles softly in response, and then she leaves. Draco busies himself after that, no use daydreaming his entire shift away, not while there was still work to be done. There was some tentative deals with the vampire population that still needed to be worked on.

The door opened again, and Draco finds himself smiling again.

"Susan, I have nothing else for you. For once, you didn't forget any-"

" _Stupefy!_ "

* * *

They were sitting in her office, both left dumbstruck with how the day had went.

He broke the silence first. 

"I didn't understand it, when Kingsley told me, after you and Ron had left." Hermione looked at him curiously, an inscrutable look on her face. "Something about the multiverse theory, said you'd might know about it."

Now her eyes widen. "Of course! How had I not thought about it before?"

Harry shrugs. "We were all pretty preoccupied to be fair - _where_ are you going?!" He calls out at her as she leapt up from her seat, and walked over to the mountain sized bookshelf behind her desk.

"To get a book!"

Despite himself, he can't help but chuckle at that.

"Right, silly me."

When she turned back around to face him, Hermione had a thin maroon coloured book partially obscuring her face, with golden lettering on the cover. 

"The multiverse theory," She began, and immediately Harry felt himself become transported back into his school years. He and Ron would be in the library with her, and she'd be talking a mile a minute about something that'd piqued her interest that day. "Is a hypothetical group of multiple universes, ones where perhaps world changing events occurred differently, like say Hitler and the Nazi's winning the second world war. Scientists have debated heavily on this topic for _years,_ some believe it to be a mockery of what we have today, and others think it to be completely true. Harry, could you imagine a world where Voldemort never attacked your parents? Never acted on the prophecy? Or maybe if Tom Riddle senior actually stayed with Merope? Perhaps giving him a better home life. It's believed that every decision we make creates the foundation for the world we're in now, but what about the decisions we don't make? They split off into a parallel universe where we _did_ make the decision." She stopped to take a breath. "Don't you see? If this Nott is truly who he says he is, then that means the theory is true! Years of scientific guesswork can finally be put to rest! Er, for wizards, anyway."

"It _is_ interesting," Harry admitted after several moments, brows furrowed in thought. "But this still creates problems for us." At Hermione's frown he continued. "If Nott isn't lying, then he's come from a world far worse off than ours, one with Voldemort still running around with a full force of Death Eater's. They seem far more put together too, I mean - I _know_ they've infiltrated before, but that was when some were cleared of charges like Malfoy, Yaxley and Macnair. But to utterly replace our worlds versions of themselves? On top of that, with people who weren't even Death Eaters here? That _scares_ me Hermione, anyone, if it's true, from their world could be evil, and they could have already replaced someone _here._ " He then shot out of his seat, startling Hermione a little. "Merlin, Kingsley he - he might not _know,_ might not understand. The multiverse theory is more a muggle thing, he'd told me that it all sort've went over his head. What if nobody's thought that there could be other people from Nott's world here too?"

Hermione had a horrified look on her face, one that Harry no doubt also had reflected on his own.

"Oh Merlin."

* * *

"Are we sure he's telling the truth?"

Kingsley Shacklebolt looked around his office, all eyes on him.

"As Tom's already said," He began slowly, gesturing with one hand towards the short Auror, the other supporting his weight as he leant against his ornate desk. "The stuff we gave him was the strongest we have, so short of outright betrayal, he must have been telling the truth. That man in there, _is_ Theodore Nott."

"Could he have taken an antidote beforehand?" Tracey asked, she had spoken first. "Could've been paranoid about being found out."

"Maybe he's immune," Proudfoot suggested. "Maybe our magic doesn't work on him like his would from his earth. Blimey, that sounds strange to say."

"One theory," Kingsley acknowledged. "One that I don't find as likely. I understand that this all sounds crazy, but we live in a world of _magic_ for Merlin's sake. What's happened, is _very_ real. Tracey, go to your father, let him know that I want every available Auror called back here until we decide what to do next." She nodded and he continued. "That way we can catch him up and get our forces pooled together for any further unpleasant revelations."

His mind was racing, the mere idea that there could be people from another world impersonating ministry employee's terrified him. What would they do? Round everyone up to check for dark marks? There'd be an outrage, not to mention doing that would mean letting the public know just how serious this all was. As the Auror's filled out of his office he frowned, this kind of thinking wouldn't please a certain someone he knew. But to throw this threat into the faces of the public? The sheer _panic_ it would create warranted him holding it all back for the moment.

Right?

No one ever told him that being Minister meant solving interdimensional problems.

There was no use worrying about what ifs and the morality of keeping his mouth shut now, he needed to _act._ Perhaps he'd make some inquiries of his own, and then some more aggressive ones when he had the full force of the Auror department back behind him. 

But before he could form any plans, there was a knock at his door. Kingsley frowned, not understanding why his secretary hadn't let him know of any visitors first.

"Enter."

Harry Potter and Hermione granger enter, and Kingsley can't even get out a confused greeting before his eyes are widening at the sight of _two_ Draco Malfoy's being levitated into the room. Both unconscious.

"We have a lot to talk about." Hermione says, wincing as one of the Draco's heads hits the wall.

Kingsley, doesn't freak out, he does what he's been known to do. Keep a cool head, and ask the right questions.

"Clearly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end, this chapter seems a little disjointed to me. Sorry if it comes off that way to you as well, but its taken a hell of a lot of time and effort to complete this chapter. Especially emotionally.


End file.
